That's right, you read right. Thanks to my eagerness to get this out there, I decided to post the prologue of Cleansing Silver Nava IV Today.

Cleansing Silver Nava IV is the sequel to Cleansing Warswick, a Sci-Fi War Novel written by me, Nate (Comedianmasta). As of 11/3/08 Psypoke will be the first place besides my personel blog for CSN4 to be posted. Now, I understand many of you will say (as of right now you have not many posts on your current CW thread, why bother? Mostly because people are drawn in to the first few chapters, and my first few in CW are slow. Hopefully, the prologue will give you a better idea of my writing style and the action/ realism/effort I put into my books, and make you want to give CW a chance. If not, I'm sure you'll find CSN4 a great read none-the less.

At this time I want to re-state the fact that this is rated-T, or PG-13 in movie terms. Some content may not be apropriate for all readers, as though I don't believe in things like swearing, certain comments, and alla round gore, I did want this to appear as realistic in as many aspects as possible. Don't judge me, just know this is reality. As always, feedback is loved, expecially good feedback, and same posting rules apply. My official opening to this sequel will be edited in later when I'm ready to start posting chapters.

Genre: Science Fiction, Fiction, War, Action, Drama
Rating: T (For Violence, Some Mild Language, and all around reading level)
Overview: Two years after the events on Warswick, a dark and mysterious power is mysteriously awoken deep inside the LEW coloney Silver Nava IV, and the Gilgathons once again become a major threat to humanity. The only heroes that can deal with this new threat are strewn about the galaxy. Now, with a new war breaking out on LEW soil, they are brought together to discover new secrets, challenges, and allies among a new threat to humanity and Elvidions alike. After a jail break, Ruben and the Hand of God soldiers break onto Silver Nava IV and help with the evacuation of St. Paulsburo and then work on the Gilgathon threat. MASTER Sergeant Henry McCoy and his new Marine team take the fight to the Gilgathons while retaking the planet. Rebuz battles issues within the Elvidion military and battles a few personel sins while trying to survive the second biggest Elvidion Rebellion in all Elvidion history, and possibly save the human race as well. In the end, this book will leave you wanting more with several jaw dropping turn of events and action packed chapters that make Cleansing Warswick look like a childrens book!

Again, I wish you all will enjoy my book, and I thank you for your time!

Cleansing Silver Nava IV
Prologue

“…And then… and then I told him, I said ‘No, it’s in the other end’ and he totally turned around and… LOOKED! Bah-ha-ha!” said Damian through laughs and chuckles.

The rest of the guys burst out laughing, Ferdy doubling over in his seat. Ryan wiped a tear from his eye. He hadn’t laughed like that in a while. He paused to adjust his M8-7 Assault Rifle as he turned to look out his Humvee window.

They were on highway F-48, as they rode on at around 67mph. Ryan loved it when they had time like this to just hang out and fool around. He loved it here, on Silver Nava IV. There was never any fighting here, the rebels stayed far enough away. He never had to fight, never had to work… much. This is why he joined the army, to be put in a back water post and chill with friends.

He had gotten his nick name because Damian wised up one day and called him “Armageddon”. Unfortunately for Damian, the name never stuck but “Doomsday” arose from it. Ryan didn’t mind his name, “Spriggs”. It came from his last name, Sprigeton, but it was Sarge who messed up and called him “Spiggton”.

“Ya,” chimed in Ferdy, “This place is paradise! No fighting, no hogs, luxury and broads. It’s so nice, I can even stand you yanks yuckin’ it up.”

“Amen to that, brother,” said Jeffery and he high fived Ferdy.

“Yeah, well you’ll never know, now will yeah, Lady Ferdinand?”

Some of the other guys chuckled and Ferdy gave a playful scowl towards Sarge’s rearview mirror.

“Come on, Sarge, you know nothing’s up,” said Ryan, “It’s just another mine disturbance, a collapse or attempted collapse or something. Then we went all the way over there for crowd control and traffic monitoring.”

Some of the other guys nodded as Sarge didn’t say anything. They heard a beep, then control came over their helmet radio set. Ryan saw the ‘Radio On: Command’ sign on his eyepiece and he sighed.

“Listen up, Carolinas. Dakota team has already reached the site. Whatever it is, it’s a mess down there. Possible injuries. Step on it.”

“We hear you, command,” said Sarge, “Just send down some actually law enforcement to do some traffic control.”

Sarge gave a smirk and a nod at Ryan, who smiled big. Damian loaded his 12 gauge automatic shotgun and checked his Assault Rifle on his back while Jeffery got his M1-7 Sub Machine Gun ready. Ferdy grabbed a belt of grenades and strapped it to his waist.

“Might as well look dashing and dangerous, right?” he commented.

Lipton made sure all his equipment was set as Sarge drove through the gate into the mine’s parking lot, which was loaded with people. Ryan looked around; many people just seemed confused more then hurt. Ryan could see the mine’s entrance, workers were walking out of it. There was some mine trucks and carts around, filled with Silver and Navite, a precious stone only found in this universe. Sarge pulled up behind another L.E.W. Humvee, no soldiers were in or around it.

As they stopped, Ryan got out, Damian right behind him and Ferdy and Jeff going out another door. Ryan held his gun down a bit, looking around and glimpsing from the sunlight. That was probably the only problem of Silver Nava IV. Probably the only problem with the entire solar system! Two suns. When the sun shined, both shined bright and took out almost all the shade. The only time you could get shade was at night.

A funny little man in a miner’s hard hat ran up and waved his arm.

“Soldiers,” he yelled, “Over here!”

Ryan noticed he had some sort of serious “middle eastern” accent. Sarge approached the man first.

“What’s the story?” asked Sarge.

“I don’t know, there was a disturbance down below, and then someone pulled the panic button and ordered everyone out. I know very little,” the man started, “Now, all hell broke loose. I have no contact with anybody down there and those I have contact with no didly shi-”

“We get the point,” said the Sergeant, “Where’s the other team. Where are the Dakotas?”

“The other soldiers have already gone down,” said the man, “They report nothing but bad news. Possibly some deaths, maybe a cave in or something. Some people are saying it’s an attack.”

“An attack?” said Damian.

“Rebels?” asked Ferdy.

“I don’t know, it’s all Hak-lavar to me,” said the man.

“Ok, ok, we’ll head down there,” said Sarge, “We’ll find out what the hell’s going on.”

They had been walking for what seemed like forever, but Ryan’s helmet clock told him it was about 30 minutes. As they progressed down into the depth of the Mine they kept passing more workers. Then Ryan started noticing a pattern. The farther they went down, the more scared and shaken up the workers seemed.

Ryan looked around, taking in the sights. The mines seemed to go on for ever, mining tools and machinery littered the area.

“I think we need to be prepared for anything,” Sarge said, loading his M9-4 Battle Rifle and brought it up to his shoulder.

It was a little bit, but then Ryan could hear some commotion farther down. It sounded like gunfire and yelling. Ryan felt a surge and couldn’t help speeding up, but Jeffery was faster then him. He sped past him and aimed around the corner. The sounds were much closer now, and the workers running from the gunfire were yelling and screaming now, and less in number.

Ryan could see the flashes from gun barrels and heard some sort of growl/howl sound. The walls rang with sounds from assault rifles, and a strange sound from another rifle type.

“Rebels?” asked Damian again, but he was easily overlooked.

Just then two men ran around the corner, one continuing to fire at an unseen enemy.

“Dakotas!” yelled the Sergeant.

The two men tried to run away, but then one man got hit by a bullet in the face. His body went limp and Ryan tensed up, realizing this was serious. He dropped to a knee and aimed.

“Holly Crap!” yelled Lipton.

“Bloody Hell!” yelled Ferdy.

Just then, a bunch of creatures ran around the corner, chasing them. They were big, some a tad shorter then a human. One kind, the shorter ones, didn’t wear clothing and they had thin skin, but sharp claws and horrid teeth. The other was taller, probably a bit bigger then a human, 7…8 feet tall. It wore cloths, hard leather cloths covered with armor. They wielded weapons, some sort of huge rifle, and they roared like thunder.

“What the hell are those things?” yelled Damian.

“Shoot, shoot!” yelled Ryan as he opened fire.

The others joined in, knocking many of them to the ground. In response, some of the creatures took cover and began firing back. Yells and orders filled the cavern, but they didn’t slow down the creatures almost at all.

“No, those can’t be… they can’t!”

“Where the hell are the others, soldier!”

“They’re gone, sir, all gone!”

“We won… we won against these things. Warswick was liberated!”

“Fire, fire!”

No matter what they did, the creatures kept coming. Ryan aimed and put a burst into the chest of one of the big creatures, but got distracted as the Dakota soldier got hit in the shoulder and fell over, only to be ripped apart by the creatures. Then Ryan heard Jeffery scream in pain.

He turned around, seeing that Jeffery had been hit by a burst, bleeding from his chest and coughing up blood. Ryan looked beside him and saw that Damian had been shot in the head, and was dead.

Then Ryan felt a short, piercing pain in his leg and he fell over, he’d been shot. He felt his leg, and dropped his assault rifle as he fell to the ground. He tried to slowly back up, crawling away from the creatures.

That’s when Ryan remembered, mines always put small explosives to blow in caves for controlled cave ins. He looked around, and saw a detonator close to him. As he tried to crawl toward it, Lipton got hit in the leg. As he fell to one knee, screaming, another bullet whipped through his head. Sarge couldn’t help but start backing up, and soon that left Ferdy and Ryan closest to the beasts.

Ryan crawled with all his might, and he felt another round sink into his leg. He let out a cry of pain, but didn’t slow down until he had the detonator in his hand. He turned around, seeing that the beasts were almost on him. He could see into their eyes, their cold eyes.

“Blow it, Spriggs, blow it!” yelled Sarge.

Ryan only looked back once, and he pressed the detonation button. He heard an explosion, and felt debris hit his helmet and battle armor, but no giant rocks fell. He looked up and around, only two of the ten charges blew.

“It’s a dud!” yelled Sarge, “Fall back, fall back!”

Ryan watched Ferdy try to sprint back, but his back was riddled with bullets before he made it a meter. Ryan looked as some of the creatures by passed him, but one of them, a big one, started walking right toward him, a strange large pistol in his hand.

Ryan drew his pistol and shot it, but he only nicked its neck. The creature snarled and walked up, pointing the pistol-thing in Ryan’s face. The last thing he saw was the flash of the gun barrel.

Last edited by comedianmasta on Thu Nov 06, 2008 5:27 pm, edited 2 times in total.

ooh. Short, descriptive and brutal. I like it. I haven't read warswick, but i think i might want to now.

Excellent. Seeing as I haven't read warswick, I must say that this is great even as a stand alone.
In a few short paragraphs we learn and become attached to this group of troops, even though in the back of our heads we know SOMETHING is gonna happen.
And then you kill them rather quickly and brutally.

Yes. every character I do I want you to become attached to. Everyone has they're own story, background, and personality. These are not the main characters, but it just shows you my writing styles. I think a book could suck, but if you love the characters and feel attached, or can find common ground, then the book suddenly becomes slightly worth it. Not saying mine sucks.

And this is just a Prologue. I wanted to grab your attention. Glad to see it in action, thanks. I'll update this later and possibly add chapter 1. That should hold you off for a while.

Another light flickered as he was dragged farther down the hall. Maintenance must have also thought this place was to dull to work on. There was no windows, no pictures, just a steady stream of florescent bulbs and nothingness until the door at the end. It wouldn’t matter any way, Ruben didn’t care anymore. He wouldn’t be able to look at any of it anyway.

Ruben tried to flex his fist, but he couldn’t move it much, the guards holding his arms practically squeezed them to death for fear of… what? Do they really think I’m going to escape? thought Ruben. He’d have been more willing to fight and kill them then try to escape, but he was too weak. His cuts and bruises proved what fighting would get you, nowhere.

As they neared the door, Ruben could hear yelling and arguing from behind it, as a man with a big, burly voice talked over some sort of PA system, trying to calm them down.

“Ready for your big day?” one of the guards said.

“Yeah,” chuckled another, “Look your best.”

Together they chuckled as they pushed the door open, and went into the bright light, into the room. Ruben squinted, but only for a second. It was the noise that got to him. Almost immediately the yelling got worse. Curses and death threats flew at Ruben from everywhere. Some people even through pens and crumpled paper.

The big man stopped talking as Ruben was led somewhere into the room. Ruben looked up, slightly, trying to take in the scene.

He was in a giant, circular room. A courtroom, where a panel of judges awaited him on the opposite side of where he entered. Around the room were bleachers, filled with angry politicians and people of importance. There were seven judges, three on either side of a man with broad shoulders and a mustache and beard, nice and dark brown. He stood tall, wore a military blue uniform, where many medals and gold stars shined all around his uniform. His hat, where seven gold stars plus a gold eagle shined, was sitting on the table in front of him.

Ruben was led to a small pedestal in the middle, where he was chained to hit. He had been dragged by his feet the whole way, so a slight pain shot up his leg when he finally had to stand on his own. The two guards left him, and a buzzing sound was heard and people slowly began to calm down.

Not waiting for them to completely calm down, the big man began.

“We are here today for the trial of this… Ruben Onyx, on the terms of conspiracy, violence against Linked Earth World Officials, stealing from Linked Earth World supply routes, and treason against the Linked Earth Worlds!”

At this, the room erupted again in an angry sound, until they were silenced again by a buzzer. Ruben hung his head, and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be hear, how did it all go wrong?

__________________
Ruben said nothing, just watched the temple as smoke rose from it. In the distance a pillar of green light flashed across the sky. Ruben wondered what it could have been. But before he had time to react five L.E.W. drop ships flew over his head and circled above. The drop pods of two of them let out a crew of Marines who scanned the area while the other three ships landed, allowing their full crew to be let out and search the place.

Ruben couldn’t help but smile a bit. It was over, the nightmare was over. They had done it. They had saved Warswick. They had stopped the Gilgathons. They had WON.

I mean, thought Ruben, what else could go wrong?

As the soldiers surrounded them, they raised their rifles, looking around the area. Many soldiers looked around, making sure all the Gilgathons were dead. Sergeant McCoy and Private Dufraine walked towards some of them, waving their arms and greeting them. As they were taken towards one of the drop ships, a couple soldiers came up and pointed their guns at Ruben.

“Hands on your head, get on the ground!” yelled one.

“Drop your weapon, or we’ll shoot,” yelled another.

Ruben’s smiled disappeared and he quickly dropped his weapon and other weapons on him, he raised his hands.

“Wait, guys, I think this is a mistake-”

“Hands on your head, get your ass on the ground!” yelled one of the soldiers again.

Ruben quickly slapped his hands on his head and kneeled on the ground. He felt one of the soldiers roughly trust his hands behinds his back and cough them together. He was roughly picked up and pushed toward another drop ship. Aw crap, he thought, what now?

____________________
“And publicly standing out against Linked Earth World’s Laws, directly associating and participating in activities against Linked Earth World Citizens and officials, and, finally, directly interfering in Linked Earth World operations, therefore, hindering progress and safety for all Linked Earth Worlds citizens and, in this case, the entire human race,” Finished General Shaw, “Do you, Ruben Onyx, have anything to say for yourself before you are judged?”

Ruben just stared forward. He didn’t answer. He could feel the bruise on his eye pulsing slightly, and a headache seemed to be coming on.

“Mr. Onyx?” said the General again.

Ruben still said nothing. The general nodded and turned to the council, after getting nods from each of them, he turned back and cleared his throat.

“Very well, then. Mr. Onyx, when you were questioned, you said nothing of your heritage, your past, or why you chose to betray the Linked Earth Worlds. My question is how you got that tattoo on your wrist?”

Ruben barely glanced at it, the tattoo of a Prehistoric Velociraptor on his right hand wrist. He had it there forever; all he knew was no one at home liked it. He was always shunned growing up. It was some sort of L.E.W. secret project. He never wanted it, never wanted anything to do with the L.E.W. He never knew why he had these tattoos. He wasn’t a citizen.

Ruben looked up at the General, and uttered the only words he could muster.

“What is it?” he asked, “What does it mean? Who am I? What… am I?”

The council and all who watched fidgeted in their seats. Ruben looked upon their confused faces. They didn’t look like that earlier, he thought.

Ruben doubled over again, spitting out more blood. The man’s fists hurt more the Ruben could have ever imagined. The soldier went in to punch him again, but he was warded off.

“Where,” asked the interrogator again, “did you come from, who are you?”

“Onyx, Ruben,” stated Ruben, “Private First Class, 099-38-2617.”

The interrogator snarled again and nodded for the soldier to punch Ruben again. After Ruben was done spitting up another batch of blood, the interrogator leaned down next to him again.

“There is no Ruben Onyx in the records,” he said, “Now stop lying and give us your real name, traitor!”

Then it was the interrogator who punched Ruben again, who fell on the floor, gasping for air. The interrogator turned to a mirror, obviously one-way, and shook his head, putting his hands up and shrugging.

“Take some blood, DNA test it,” came General Shaw’s voice over a PA system, “We got to know who he is.”

The interrogator showed a surprised face, and then walked closer to the mirror.

“What if he hurts us,” he said, “He is one of them.”

“Then beat him more,” said a female’s voice, “We must know who he is and how we went wrong. How can a Raptor decide to turn on all he knows? How can they betray! It’s not in their training; it’s not in their LIFE!”

The man nodded, and picked up a teaser stick. Ruben shook his head as the man came over, and then stuck it into Ruben, sending electrical shocks through his body. Ruben writhed in pain on the floor and let out a scream.

“And, therefore, you, Ruben Onyx, are found guilty of high treason, penalty punishable by life in prison or execution,” finished General Shaw.

The crowd gave out a cheer and a roar, throwing things at Ruben. Ruben just stared down at the pedestal in front of him. Shaking his head.

“We shall wait for his blood results to tell us who he really is, until then Mr. Onyx shall go to St. Angolan’s prison to await sentencing,” said the General.

The two guards came up and grabbed Ruben’s arms, holding him tight. Ruben barely moved, he didn’t care anymore. He’d die… not knowing who or… what he was.

“Take him away!”

Then the room erupted in angry yelling again. Ruben felt himself being unchained from the pedestal and being carried off. He tried to walk, but he was too slow and ended up being dragged again. He was dragged out of the room and he never looked back. As the door closed behind him, he stared down the same hallway he had come from.

Ruben watched, confused as of why his father wasn’t joining them. Rebuz said he’d stay behind, what’s wrong with that? All of a sudden his father hugged Rebuz. Then, he clipped his life line to Rebuz’s belt and backed up. Then he shot the line holding the Gilgathon bird thing to the ground and it flew off.

Ruben’s eyes widened and he reached out to his dad.

“No!”

Before long, the sight of him was lost in the cavern, and Ruben was stunned. A few minutes latter, the temple exploded.

As soon as the door opened, Ruben was thrown in and the door slammed behind him. He hit the ground, hard, but it didn’t bother him.

“Night, night, dead man,” laughed one of the guards as they walked off.

Ruben rose to his feet, and sat on the small metal cot in his cell. He stared off, into the blackness. He closed his eyes and allowed a tear slowly run down his cheek.

I love you, he heard his father say, I will always love you, my son.

But he wasn’t his son; Ruben knew he wasn’t his son. He didn’t even have a mother. Besides, he had failed him; he had failed his father…

He didn’t even remember going to bed that night, but he sure as hell remembered waking up to get moved in the morning.

Many Grunites and Zul’ Nugul alike clapped as Rebuz walked down the corridor. He had not even bothered to get something ready to say. He had been waiting two years for this. He was only upset that his comrades couldn’t join him. He let his robe wave behind him and he didn’t bother to add to the extra attention.

Though, he did smile slightly and nodded at some. The small, bluish Grunites went out of their way to clap and cheer. Rebuz couldn’t help it; they were pretty impressive for tiny things. The Elvidion race depended on these creatures for maintenance, computer work, and anything else that Zul’ Nugul didn’t really want to do.

As Rebuz rounded the corner, he saw the hallway leading to the door into the Protice’s chamber. Standing in front was a long line of six Honor Guards, three for each side. They stood at attention, wearing elaborate armor and head dresses and wielded a special duel headed ax. It was a great honor to serve as an Honor Guard.

As Rebuz approached, the Honor Guards kept their heads straight, not looking up, but simultaneously they lifted their axes and slammed the butt of the pole on the ground. The sound wrung in the hallway, and Rebuz couldn’t help but stop and look. He was slightly confused, but then the door opened and a figure walked toward Rebuz. Rebuz was taken aback when he saw a Drunthor walking toward him.

The Drunthor was tall, slightly taller then a Zul’ Nugul, but only because of their crest. The Zul’ Nugul had a long, cylindrical head, covered in their hard black skin that covered their body. The Drunthor, who was never looked at as a true Elvidion, at its cylindrical head spread out into a large crest. The Drunthor race was a mutation of Zul’ Nugul that formed shortly after the great Gilgamite war. The Drunthor’s anatomy was perfect for war, but with no more war to fight, they were shunned. As time grew on, Drunthors were finally accepted as part of the Elvidion race, but could only be employed into the military.

Strangely, Drunthors usually didn’t get high ranking statuses. They were the heavy units of the military, had special weapons and armor made up for them. This one, though, held the mark as head of the Honor Guard. Rebuz was taken back, but he walked forward to meet the Drunthor head on. As they neared closer, the Drunthor put his right fist to his chest and bowed slightly, Rebuz did the same.

“Tork, I am honored to meet you,” said the Drunthor, “Please, allow me to introduce myself.”

“Please do,” answered Rebuz, “I am curios as to know who you are.”

“Please, sir, I am no one compared with you,” answered the Drunthor, “My title is Quilb, Head of the Honor Guard.”

Rebuz nodded slightly, then stated, “How am I no one compared with you? You are head of the Honor Guard, and you are of the Drunthor kind. Surely your name will be implanted in the archive for millenniums to come.”

“Why, Tork, you are Tork Rebuz,” answered Quilb, “Vanquisher of Gilgamites, destroyer of queens. Please, allow me to delay you no further, the council await your presence.”

With that, Quilb turned around and headed toward the door. Rebuz followed him through as the door split into two and rolled off, and he entered the familiar empty chamber. There was a path lined with lights that led to a platform. Rebuz walked up to it and stood on it. Quilb did not follow him; instead he waited beside him and bowed again. Before Rebuz could respond, the platform lightly lifted into the air, carrying Rebuz toward the ceiling.

As Rebuz continued upward, he began to see lights up top. As he neared, the sight of floating chairs and other platforms could be seen and distant chatter could be heard. When the platform finally came to a stop, Rebuz could see the Protice.

The Protice were the most holy of all Elvidions. They acted as the rulers, the religious teachers, and tactical advisors and admirals. Though their bodies were frail, their minds were tough. They looked similar to Zul’ Nugul, but their arms were much longer and their heads flattened on the top. They wore elaborate robes and headdresses that sparkled and shined.

All their chatter came to a stop when Rebuz approached, and Rebuz was greeted by the Head Protice, Zasz. Rebuz bowed slightly as Zasz approached.

“Ah, Tork Rebuz, praise god you have returned to us,” said Zasz, “We apologies a million times over for the delay.”

“It is of no bother,” said Rebuz, “I am grateful for the time to wait.”

“That you are,” continued Zasz, “Let me see. Oh, so much for praise. Your mission was of total success. You only suffered one casualty, the humans have vanquished close to all remaining Gilgamites, and there is no hope in returning Gilgamite supremacy to this system.”

“But,” cried another Protice, zooming in closer, “Your contact with the humans was a disgrace, unbearable, and certainly uncalled for!”

Rebuz knew this one; Protice Serks was Zasz’s longest friend and advisor. Though part of the council himself, he often made his way heard. He was older then Zasz, and often more pugnacious.

“Yes,” continued Zasz, “Your only flaw. The question that fore stills in all of us is why contact with the humans seemed so necessary? For centuries we uttered not a word or sign of our existence.”

“Holy Protice, I assure you, the pact with the humans was helpful. They proved themselves, even in Zul’ Nugul standards,” answered Rebuz, then he let his head droop slightly as he said; “I… owe my life to one of them, who gave his for mine.”

“Oh yes,” said Zasz, “Your report did read of a sacrifice that one showed. It was… interesting.”

“Yes,” said Rebuz, “The only reason I stand before you now.”

As Zasz thought, Rebuz wondered what he would say. He didn’t really have anything else to add.

“Tork,” stated Zasz, “I hereby state that your holy mission was a complete success. We shall exclude your contact with the humans in hopes that they shall not report their story. If they do, we will need to take proper action against you.”

Rebuz nodded, he figured something like that would arise.

“As if we didn’t have enough to worry about!” yelled Serks.

“Yes, that brings us to your new mission,” said Zasz.

“Forgive me, Protice, but what new mission?” asked Rebuz.

“A small rebellion has surfaced,” said Serks, “An outrage and sinful one not seen since before my time! A large scale, large enough to call an army, of heretics and traitors who have decided to take the way of death instead of salvation.”

“Yes,” said Zasz, more calmly, “They seem to believe that our religion is blinding our insight and our holy journey is all a lie. They’ve denounced their faith and have vowed to change by force. They’ve began sinful studies and horrible workings deep in space and on outlying systems.”

“In short,” said a voice, “We have to stop them.”

Ruben allowed the slight annoyance to show on his face as he looked around for the source of the voice, then a figure walked out on a platform behind Zasz. He was a Zul’ Nugul, but he wore a more skin tight spandex suit covered with a strange armor type, not quite as big as the Zul’ Nugul battle suits. The Zul’ Nugul crossed his arms and smirked at Rebuz. Rebuz allowed surprise to show on his face, and then anger.

“Zeon, I did not expect you to eavesdrop so cowardly,” then Rebuz motioned toward Zeon’s armor and said, “and I never expected you to betray your fellow Zul’ Nugul.”

“It is not betrayal, brother, it is upgrade and honor,” said Zeon.

“Upgrade? Honor?” questioned Rebuz.

“Zeon has been chosen to take on a new class, the holy Empirior. He shall do our work directly,” said Zasz.

“First, he shall quell this embarrassing rebellion before it gets out of hand,” added Serks.

“But… holly Protice, have I not shown my faith?” asked Rebuz.

“Please, Tork, do not turn this into a matter of jealousy. You must understand, we never expected you to return, especially after the reports of your first, and only, loss so early in the mission. We were sure you would not survive the temple escape, we made plans ahead. You must understand, Tork.”

Rebuz allowed his head to droop, and he nodded.

“Of coarse I do, High Protice. Your word is law, and I am a servant of you and our lord.”

The chamber was quiet for a while, Rebuz kept his head in a curt bow for a little while before rising to receive further orders.

“Actually, High Protice,” said Zeon, moving closer to Zasz on his platform, “I could use a heroes help on this mission. Maybe Tork Rebuz could join me; he is willing to invite whoever he likes.”

Rebuz couldn’t help but allow a bit of anger to show, but he bit his tongue and said, “Whatever the Protice command me to.”

Just then an alarm sounded, and a red light appeared on the Protice’s chair. Zasz pressed his and a screen behind him lit up, showing the face of a Zul’ Nugul ship Captor. He looked upset.

“High Protice,” he said, “I have some unfortunate news, it requires you immediate attention!”

Zasz hesitated only a second, then he nodded and said, “Very well, Tork Rebuz you will follow Captor Zeon on his mission to end this uprising. Bring who you wish, but you leave as soon as God willing possible. You have my blessing; we shall keep you in prayer.”

With that, Zeon and Rebuz lightly bowed toward Protice Zasz as their platforms sank into the dark abyss. As they did, the Protice immediately turned their attention to the screen that disappeared from Rebuz’s hearing. Rebuz didn’t even wait for Zeon to rise from his bow to talk to him.

“How could you, Zeon! I once called you brother,” said Rebuz.

“Do not mistake my actions, it brings me great joy and relief to know you have returned, but do not think for one second I will step down to allow you to assume my thrown. Do you really believe you are a hero? No, you believe as I.”

Rebuz looked away, crossing his arms in disgust. Zeon was right; Rebuz never thought of himself as a hero, he knew who the real hero was. The hero wasn’t even Elvidion, yet here Rebuz stood, soaking up his glory.

Rebuz was a little taken aback, and stepped back slightly. Zeon did not allow this to hinder him, though.

“Your love for the humans is sickening. How could you allow those sinful creatures to aid in the great quest granted to you and your small team by the High Protice Zasz himself! On top of that, you admit that it was not you who defeated the Gilgamites themselves. It was a human. Humans don’t even deserve to be near us! They are no greater then the Gilgamites they fought so hard to vanquish. If it was up to me, I would bombard their planets, burn their civilizations, and freeze the survivor and stick them inside the prisons where the beasts of old sleep!”

Rebuz said nothing as the platform came to rest at the bottom, Zeon’s platform resting a few meters away. Quilb was still standing in the same place, waiting patiently. He only heard the last bit of their conversation. Rebuz only walked up to Zeon slightly before continuing their conversation.

“Humans could possibly be our brother species, the image of our God himself! Even if they were not, they deserve to choose for themselves. I have seen greatness in them,” started Rebuz, “Great sacrifice that only the greatest of Zul’ Nugul would have done. They have their own sins that they need to work out!”

Rebuz turned and started to walk away, before turning to Zeon again and saying, “Were we so very different once, our race falling short of God’s expectations? Are we in any position to judge them?”

With that, Rebuz turned and walked away, Quilb walking closely behind. Rebuz said nothing as the doors slid back and he walked through. Quilb quickly caught up to him, walking beside Rebuz.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Tork?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Rebuz, “I would be forever grateful if you would fetch my companions, Coinshack Biozard and Coinshack Elrond. I will need them where I am going.”

Quilb nodded and walked off in the opposite direction; Rebuz turned a corner and continued walking. He had a rebellion to stop.

Fri Feb 20, 2009 11:12 am

Ghost Writer

Ace Trainer

Joined: Wed Mar 14, 2007 6:45 pmPosts: 382Location: Searching for the place all the Abra teleport to. I'm going to crash their party.

Ruben sat in the darkness, listening. He could hear a lot of things, mostly the yelling of other prisoners. Most of them cussing and yelling at the guards or each other, a slight bit of old country music playing in the background. He heard the guards laughing as they walked by every so often, and the calm hum of the ship’s engines.

He wondered if this might be the final time he will ever be able to think clearly again. He also thought about who he might be. That was the only thing that brought him hope, the fact that he might find out who he really is.

“Attention hanger bay 4, can the Junker please unload and move, please. That space is required.”

He didn’t even care about the intercom anymore. He was counting down the seconds. It shouldn’t be long now; they had exited hyperspace five minutes ago and gained use of the engines back. The prison should only be a ways away. The prison was built around a large asteroid. Almost all of it was man made besides the asteroid in its center, which had been mined clean and “gutted”. Maybe the prison wouldn’t be that bad.

He heard more footsteps coming down the hallway, probably coming to move one of the prisoners again. He didn’t care anymore.

He looked around his room; the metal cot he now lay in gave the only bit of color in the room, for the steel toilet in the corner and steel sink blended right in to the rest of the steel that made up his room. He stared up, looking at the florescent light flicker slightly.

The jingling of keys made him look toward the door. He expected one of his neighbors were being moved. When he heard the scratching at his door he looked back at the light. Shaking his head, he heard the door lightly open. Some arguing was going on outside, but eventually it subsided and a figure walked into the room.

The door immediately closed, leaving this figure with Ruben.

“Ruben Onyx,” said a deep voice.

Ruben seemed to recognize it, so he risked a look. The figure was a tall, older man, with darker skin and a military cap on. The cap held the insignia of a Sergeant Major, and so did the shoulder pad of his L.E.W. standard issue battle armor. It’s blue and silver seemed to almost shine in the light, as the end of a cigar glowed in his mouth. He had a five o’clock shadow and a bit thicker mustache. He had a M9-4 Battle Rifle draped over his back, and held no weapon. Ruben was right, he did recognize him.

Ruben didn’t answer, just continued staring at the light, McCoy sighed and walked closer, kneeling next to Ruben’s cot.

“They got to move yeah, to be ready to go prison-side. Ok?”
Ruben just shook his head as McCoy sighed again.

“Ruben… I’m sorry. I swear, I did all I could, WE did all we could, but our reports were overlooked. There was just too much evidence against you, now with the Gilgathons not a threat on Warswick, they didn’t care.”

Ruben sat up in his bed, looking McCoy dead in the eye. He sighed, before mulling the words over in his mind and replying.

“It’s not your fault,” Ruben said, “It doesn’t even matter now. The only shred of happiness I have now is that they figure out who I really am and I can discover who I am, who I was supposed to be.”

McCoy looked at Ruben for a bit, before nodding and standing up again. He walked over to the door and pounded on it three times hard. The door opened and soldiers came in, wearing special op full faced helmets, and handcuffed Ruben. Ruben was hoisted out of his bed and taken out of his room.

The hallway outside seemed brighter for some reason, Ruben didn’t know. Outside there was even more guards waiting, each carrying M1-7 Sub Machine Guns and wore full faced helmets. Ruben was stuck in the middle of them and was forced to walk down the corridor as his cell door slammed behind him. He could still hear the screams and yells of the other inmates, but now it was loader.

As they reached the end of the corridor there was another door, and McCoy placed a card in a slot at its side and the door slid open. As Ruben passed through, he noticed the L.E.W. guards escorting him seemed to be staring at him. He knew they were probably talking back and forth to each other, making jokes and laughing. He could feel their eyes in the back of his head. He almost hated it, but then he realized it didn’t really bother him.

As they continued to walk, Ruben noticed there was a long area where no cameras, windows, or guards seemed to stand. This was probably for crew safety if there ever was a break-out and these long corridors allowed the guards to gun down any threats at a distance.

As they approached a small intersection Ruben noticed a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. He was used to being hit, by fear and by hatred, but he still tried his best to dodge it with great efficiency. This time, he felt no resistance or arms holding him still. He turned in time to see the commotion.

Two of the guards lay, knocked out, on the floor while a third knelt holding his head. He saw McCoy take his battle rifle and ram the butt of it into the back of the head of the guard in front of him, and another guard knocked out another guard in front of him. Then, there was McCoy, Ruben, and a couple guards left standing.

Ruben allowed his face to display the ultimate picture of surprise and confusion as the guard kneeling and shaking his head moaned loudly.

“God… you weren’t supposed to hit me. What the heck! I’m on your side!” yelled the guard as he unlatched his helmet and took it off.

Ruben’s memory seemed to spark in a second. Everything, his childhood, his friends, his losses, his father, his mission, the victory, Elvidions, Hand of God, Gilgathons, he just let it flow. Then, he looked at the guard.

“No,” he said under his breathe.

The guard stood, revealing a man with “helmet head” as he turned around.

“L-Leroy? Leroy Terkins?” questioned Ruben.

“Was it you?” questioned Leroy, pointing at another guard.

A guard to Leroy’s left began to laugh slightly, and Leroy pointed at him. The guard Leroy had talked too walked forward slightly.

“Oh, cry about it. What was going to happen? That helmet wouldn’t protect all those oh-so-precious brains of yours?” mocked the guard.

Leroy turned to the guard and shook his head. The guard took off the helmet, showing a woman with long, flowing hair. She turned to Leroy and rolled her eyes. Beside her, another guard took off his helmet, showing another guy, much younger then the others.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t cha, Styx?” said the guard.

“Ya, maybe,” said the girl, “And I told you, call me Clara.”

Then the other guard turned from Clara and Leroy and smiled at Ruben.

“Hiya, Ruben, didja miss me?”

Ruben immediately snapped out of his long, quite state of not caring as he suddenly felt his body fill with energy and happiness.

“Uri!” yelled Ruben, and he ran forward and embraced Uri.

Uri laughed, allowing Ruben to cling on a bit before pushing him off.

“Good, God above, look at you,” continued Ruben, “You’re all grown up, what happened to you, how did you get here?”

“You’ve been a P.O.W. for a little over 2 years,” said Clara, “Up until a week ago, we didn’t even know you were alive.”

Ruben frowned, “Two years? Two whole years?”

Uri raised his hand, and felt Ruben’s face; Ruben felt slight stings and pains as his hand ran down his face. Ruben knew they were talking about his scars and bruises.

Clara nodded, “I… I don’t see the same light in your eyes, Ruben.”

Ruben suddenly felt angry, and he couldn’t help but burst out, “Of coarse you don’t. Where can there be light? Do you know where I’ve been? Do you even remember what happened back there? Did you forget my father?”

Everything got quiet. The last guard pulled off his helmet and shook his head, looking at Ruben.

“Of coarse not,” he said.

Ruben nodded, he felt slightly embarrassed by his outbreak. They didn’t mean anything by it.

“I…I know, Frank,” replied Ruben.

Ruben tried to shrug off his outburst and said, “But, why? Why risk all this for me? And how are we leaving?”

“We need you,” said Clara.

“Yeah, but we’ll need to tell you more later,” said Leroy, “More dirty L.E.W. could come at any moment.”

“Right, you guys should get going,” said McCoy, “Good luck, and odds are we’ll see you planet side. Now go, go, go, you know the plan.”

“Right,” said Leroy, and he walked over and slammed the butt of his gun into Sergeant McCoy’s face.

Sergeant McCoy shook his head and held his chin while an angry look showed on his face, “You dumb ass! If you can’t do it the first time don’t do it at all!”

“Sorry,” replied Leroy, and he did it again, knocking McCoy onto the floor, out cold.

“See you soon,” said Frank to Clara as she walked toward him.

“Hopefully,” said Clara, and she allowed a smile to slip onto her face, then she did the same as McCoy and knocked Frank out cold.

Ruben was surprised, but he quickly put together what the plan was, except one simple detail.

“Ok, but HOW are we escaping the ship?” he questioned again.

Uri then pulled a an earpiece out of his pack, turned it on, and handed it to Ruben, who eagerly took it and shoved it into his ear while Uri replaced his helmet. Clara and Leroy didn’t bother to pick up their helmets, which had been thrown to the ground and they headed down one of the hallways. Ruben listened into the earpiece, waiting.

“Nice to have you back, Onyx,” said a voice through the earpiece, “I don’t think I could have handled loosing two.”

Ruben smiled slightly, “Dex! You’re back.”

“Well, we’re not out of the woods yet,” said Dex, “Follow them to the ship, we gotta get out of here, now, guys!”

“Hold your horses,” said Clara, “We only have two legs, some of us are lucky to have that.”

With that, Ruben picked up one of the SMGs on the ground and ran off with the others, running through the corridor. He guessed that the ship wasn’t that hard to figure out, because they hadn’t jogged long, only taking a few turns, before they reached a door. Leroy opened it slightly, revealing a hanger on the ship.

It was littered with ships and only a few vehicles. Many engineers and naval personnel littered the hanger, working on various projects about the ship. There were few armed guards, they lined the edges, but Ruben was sure that the others wouldn’t be left unarmed. A few Vacuum Flying Assault Craft, or commonly known as V-Fack, were lined up on launched pads, as with a few Drop ships. One ship, that Ruben didn’t recognize, was also in the hanger, but stood out from the rest because it looked poorly put together and rusted slightly.

Ruben waited for the others to make a move as they scanned the personnel, crates, spacecraft, and other things for a way to an unknown destination. Leroy looked angry.

“This place is packed!” he said, and then he placed his hand up toward his ear and said, “What happened? How are we going to get over to you?”

Before Dex could answer, Ruben heard another, more gruff voice in the background go “Oh, are they here? Is tha’ them?” and then a man walked out of the beat up ship and looked about the room. Ruben shook his head, Oh, God, if you’re real and up there, please say that’s not our ship.

As the man waved, he pulled out a pistol and aimed it at one of the guards in the corner.

“Oh god, please don’t,” said Leroy, but the man had already pulled the trigger.

The gun didn’t sound familiar to Ruben, not like the widely used Mark VI or Mark IV pistols. It sounded more powerful. The guard obviously thought so, too, as he was hit hard and he fell backward. The others ran for cover in shock, and only a few aimed to fire back. Ruben, instinctively, aimed his SMG and fired a few shots at some of the guards. He heard the thuds of the rounds hitting their armor as only a few fell, the others continued to cover. Ruben heard the combined shots of Clara, Uri, and Leroy as they ran for cover and added their barrage of bullets to the fray. Ruben stayed down and blindly fired his SMG over the side of his cover. He heard the ricochet of his bullets on several metallic objects before he pulled it back close to him and ejected the now empty clip. As he reloaded, he risked a glance over the side.

He saw a good amount of bodies stacked up, and a few wounded engineers and guards trying to crawl away. Ruben felt little to no sympathy for these unlucky ones, he felt such hatred towards any member of the L.E.W. and actually hated those that had the “pleasure” of dieing quickly. He quickly noticed his newfound hate and surprised himself. After putting those hateful thoughts in the back of his mind he concentrated on the battle.

He was just in time to hear an explosion off to his right; he looked and saw the last remaining effects of fire from it. None of his friends had been hurt, but he still checked each one. He heard yelling from the guards and strained to hear what they said over the fighting, but he did distinctively hear the sound of a pin being pulled from a grenade, and the sound of a guard throwing it in his direction. Quicker then Ruben could remember, he calculated where it possibly could go, counted to one, then jumped from his cover and scanned for the grenade. He saw it, flying through the air toward him. As he still rose from his jump, he grabbed the grenade, hurled it back, and landed behind his cover. He counted to three as he heard the grenade bounce twice, then a loud BOOM. Some screams followed, but immediately went silent.

“Attention, attention, we have a breach, hanger bay four. All available battle units, we have a security breach, rebels in hanger bay four,” rang the loud female voice over a loudspeaker somewhere.

“Let’s go!” yelled Clara, but she made no effort to leave herself.

It was Ruben who moved first. He got up, tapped Uri, who was the closest to him, on the shoulder then he ran toward the strange spaceship. He aimed and fired at a group of heads he saw to his right, after all three had fallen he aimed toward another guard farther up who aimed to shoot; but Ruben popped a few rounds in that direction and saw him shudder and fall to the ground. Ruben then saw a group of soldiers to his left, but couldn’t swing his SMG around fast enough, instead, he spotted a Mark VI pistol sitting on the edge of one of the crates in front of Ruben’s running path. He grabbed it and began firing frantically at the group of guards. Ruben thought he only injured one, and he knew he caused them to duck for cover, which was good enough for him to reach the ship.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Ruben looked forward and saw the ramp leading up into the ship, a man with a gruff, short, reddish/orange beard wielding an unknown type of pistol was in the doorway. He fired a few shots behind Ruben, and then moved out of the way, slightly, for Ruben to enter. When Ruben made it, he swiftly turned around and fired at the first two guards he saw standing towards the back

Ruben had outrun the others, who desperately tried to follow him. Soon, they stopped trying to run and used as much cover as possible to move toward the ship. Ruben and the bearded man tried their best to provide covering fire, but guards of all sorts appeared from doorways and catwalks around the hanger and fired down on them. Ruben was about to consider running back out there to better cover them, when Clara and Uri, helping Leroy, made a mad sprint to the door, dodging several rounds. Before they got through the door, a bullet sunk deep into Leroy’s right arm, who yelped with pain. The bearded man immediately slammed on a large red button beside the door, which caused the door to start closing.

“Yorik, we’re moving!” yelled Clara.

“I’m way aheadove ya, babe,” said the man with the beard, and he ran into a room toward the front of the ship.

“Boy,” yelled the man again, “Get on tha gun! Move your arss and get on the gun!”

“Get us out of here!” yelled Uri down toward the ship, as the door shut, and slowly sealed.

“Gun!” yelled the man, then the ship shuttered to life.

The sound of bullets pinging off the ship’s hull filled Ruben’s ears. Ruben examined the interior of the ship: a slightly small room, with some sort of cargo area and a line of seats. At the end, was a door where the man with the beard had entered, what Ruben assumed, the cockpit.

“Alright, into the seats, buckle up, move it!” yelled Clara.

The ship lurched forward, causing everyone to jerk backward, falling onto the floor. Ruben stood, again, but felt he had issues standing, and found himself slammed into the back wall, with the others rolling toward him. After Clara rose to her feet, she had to pull her hair from her face and she swallowed something in her mouth.

“Yorik!”

“Ah-ha, my bad!”

“Who taught you to drive?” yelled Leroy, clutching at his bleeding arm.

Ruben noticed a window farther up, and he tried making his way toward it. He suddenly felt like he was lighter, allowing his aching limbs to do less work, and he seemed to drift back toward the wall, slightly. When he reached the window, he looked out, and saw stars. He saw a giant space frigate, the first time he had seen one in space, and the closest he’d ever seen a full blown star ship.

“God, I’m gonna kill that…” mumbled Uri.

“Come on,” said Clara, as she climbed some bars on the room and pulled herself toward the door.

As Ruben tried to follow her, the door opened and she seemed to float in, then another person poked his head out. He wore glasses and had messy blond hair. He also wore battle armor, but it was different then the L.E.W. armor the others wore. Instead of Silver and blue, it was a rusty brown and reddish/maroon color. The man smiled at Ruben, and Ruben barely recognized him.

“It’s great to actually see you,” said the man, and Ruben immediately recognized his voice as Dex.

Before Ruben could say anything, he was pushed through the door and Dex helped him look out the front. The man with the orange beard was strapped into a chair and had his hands on some sort of driving wheel. Clara floated over and strapped herself into the copilot’s seat, activating a red crosshair on the window. Ruben couldn’t believe that it was moving, following the patterns she made with a joystick, but then he realized it was laser projected.

“We’re leaving, we’re leaving, we got the package, hit ‘em hahd!” yelled the man through a radio, then Ruben noticed two more junky-looking ships swoop toward the frigate behind them and start firing.

“Boy, get on tha’ gun!” yelled the man again.

“Fine, I’m going, I’m going.” Cried Uri as he made his way back through the door.

“Yorik, fire up the ring!” yelled Clara.

“Hit it, boys!” yelled Yorik as he turned the ship away from the L.E.W. prisoner frigate.

As the ship turned, Ruben saw that a ring-like thing was in the distance. It looked like a giant ring, with some sort of installation thing attached to it. Ruben pointed towards it, a confused look on his face.

“What?” he asked, not really sure how to continue.

“Warp Ring,” answered Clara, “It speeds up light speed as long as you’re going from one to another.”

As she ended, lights seemed to sparkle and then a flash, before long, many streams of light shot towards the center, creating a shining ball of white light. Yorik just kept flying towards it, trying to make his ship go faster. Some objects that looked like small comets flew by them, barely missing the ship. Ruben knew that they must have been bullets from the ship, giant explosive shells, or maybe a shot from the ship’s plasma cannons, but he didn’t think prisoner frigates had plasma cannons.

“Alright,” yelled Yorik, “We’re goin’ in! Hit it!”

Just as the ship closed in on the ring, the light flashed once more, bright, and filled the entire ring. Ruben then realized that the ship was heading right towards it.

The ship shuddered and a sound like a cannon going off filled the room. Yorik hit a button and Ruben felt the force pulling him back grow stronger as he was forced back and they entered the ring, and light filled the cabin. Ruben had to squint his eyes and he tried to hold one of his arms up, but before he could do anything, it was over.

Ruben felt a slight normalcy as he shook his head. His stomach didn’t feel right, but he supposed it never really had since he’d been on this voyage. He had never flown before this point, and now he was doing it for… how long? Two years they said? Man…

Ruben looked up, and noticed Clara and Dex looking at him. Outside the large window there was yellow light everywhere, like water, as if they had entered an entirely different realm. Leroy was the first to move and say something.

He grabbed Ruben’s shoulder and pulled him up. Ruben had not realized he had slunk down to the floor. He opened the door and lead Ruben out of the cockpit back into the room Ruben had come from. Ruben had time to look around.

He did notice that some gravity had returned to the ship, but the main thing he noticed was the condition in which the ship was. Everything onboard seemed second class, the floors rough and seemed rusty. Spent bullet casings rolled around on the floor, and pots and pans clanked on hooks in a small kitchen.

The man walked over to a locker in a wall and grabbed some bandages and iodine and walked back over, Leroy had taken a seat on one of the seats lining the wall. Yorik had kneeled down and began dressing Leroy’s wound, as Leroy suddenly yelped with pain.

“Hey, careful,” said Leroy.

“Ah, quit your wining, dipstick.” Said Yorik, “You know the drill.”

Dex joined them in the room, and immediately strapped himself into one of the chairs and pulled out a laptop. Uri dropped from a hole in the ceiling, surprising Ruben, and he sealed a hatch and took off the L.E.W. helmet.

“Good god, lad, how long did it take ya to learn where the hell the trigger was?” said Yorik.

“Calm down, you didn’t have it loaded. I had to reset the system. At least I got a shot in before we went in,” replied Uri.

“Yeah, all the good that did,” said Yorik.

Clara came out of the cockpit and nodded toward Ruben.

“You alright? These warpings sometimes cause… you know… space sickness. We don’t have a big shield like the one on the L.E.W. frigates, but it fights off the worse of it,” she said.

“You’ll get over it,” said Yorik, “You are, after all, a war machine.”

“Yorik,” snapped Clara.

“You’re not going to toughen him up tip-toeing around the truth,” said Yorik.

Clara sighed, and then turned to Ruben, “Ruben, this is Madden Yorik.”

“The Madden Yorik,” said Yorik, “I’m the only Junker crazy enough to lead a popper jack group of rag-tags on a rescue mission. After this, I’ll be famous!”

Ruben noticed that the man had a heavy Scottish accent. Ruben nodded slightly and shook his head.

“Junker?” he asked.

“Junkers are a new addition to the Hand of God,” said Clara, “Ruben, there have been some changes.”

Ruben shook his head, staring at the ground. Uri walked over and sat next to Dex, who was viciously typing on his laptop.

“You see, after we won… after the Gilgathons were beat on Warswick. The L.E.W. had more time to focus on the Hand of God, and other Rebel organizations,” started Clara, “Ruben, we almost died. Countless times me and the others almost got shot, or blown up. The only hope we had was that the L.E.W. would get sidetracked in tracking down the last remaining Gilgathons. Then, the council made a tough decision. They started allying with all of the biggest rebel groups in all human space, soon we had a good amount of a military to have Warswick at a pretty good stand still, and have warfronts around human space.”

“The Junkers, being me, were one of the biggest help to ‘em,” said Yorik.

“And the most annoying,” said Leroy, then he flinched, “Ow, hey!”

“Sorry,” chuckled Yorik, “I bet that was annoying.”

“And the Elvidions?” asked Ruben.

Clara and Leroy immediately looked up and shook their heads. Uri displayed a confused look, and Yorik risked a glance at Ruben.

“Ruben,” said Dex, “All details of our, your, mission were considered classified. Technically, you were sent on a secret mission to plant one of the Hand of God’s only tactical nukes on a queen Gilgathon and destroy the majority of the Gilgathon threat. The mission was a success.”
Ruben nodded, then said, “And the L.E.W.?”

“The L.E.W. had their own story,” said Leroy.

“Technically, they had the same thing, except Sergeant McCoy had an elite recon team to do the same; he and Frank were the only survivors.”
Ruben nodded again, and then looked at Uri, staring blankly at him, and pointed.

“And him?”

“I know something’s up, the story is bull,” said Uri, “But I decided to ask little to no questions, and it paid off. I got into Clara’s team.”

“Clara’s team?” asked Ruben.

“Yeah, I was promoted, Captain Clara Styx now,” said Clara, “It doesn’t feel right, though. I feel like it’s some sort of burden.”

“No, no” said Ruben, “It’s what he would have wanted.”

“I never knew your ol’ man,” said Yorik, “But the way everyone talks of him, he would have been one hell of a drinking mate.”

Ruben nodded, then asked, “And how… why? Darn, I don’t even know how to word it. Why now? How did you pull it off?”

“Well, it was surprising easier then anyone thought,” said Clara, “Dufraine dropped some hints in our direction of what prisoner freighter you were on, and got himself and McCoy transferred on it for a bit, then we found where it would pop out and ambushed it.”

“Eh-hum!” said Yorik, clearing his throat in a loud and fake way.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Yorik used his rare, but strained, relationship with the L.E.W. to get us aboard long enough to find you, just in time to be transferred.”

“Then we hijacked and hacked the ring so we could jump out of here and get close enough to Silver Nava IV in hopes we could get you planet-side in time,” added Dex, not bothering to look up from his laptop where he still typed furiously.

“Ring? Oh, that… thing, what was that?” asked Ruben.

“In short?” asked Uri, “Or in depth, because I can’t do the in depth, you have to ask Dex.”

“The Warp Rings,” started Yorik, “Are the new and faster way to get from point A to point B. Basically, lad, they’re put about human space. The control of the ring Programs you where you want to go, you pop out on another ring in that area. It speeds up light speed travel by entire days, and better precision, there is none!”

“And, it’s not easy to hack or hijack, Thank You!” stated Dex.

“But you did it, right? So stop your prissy attitude,” said Yorik.

“Yorik, how much longer?” asked Clara.

“About an hour,” said Yorik.

Then, Yorik finished patching up Leroy and headed back into the cockpit. Leroy then strapped himself into the chair, and Uri strapped in himself next to Dex. Clara walked over to a refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water out of it. She took a sip from it, allowing it to dribble slightly down her chin. She wiped it away and tossed it at Ruben who, despite barely seeing it and being dazed and nauseated, caught it.

“Dehydration will kill you faster then your scars, Ruben,” said Clara.

“So, why now? Why would you want me back?” asked Ruben.

“Ruben, who wouldn’t want you back,” said Leroy, “Besides, are you complaining?”

“You’re my friend, Ruben, I’d die for you, and I was sure you’d do the same for me,” said Uri.

“Of course,” said Ruben, “But… the risks were so high? For… what?”

“Consider us even now;” said Uri, “In fact, you may owe me one now.”

Ruben allowed himself to smile slightly, but he turned to Clara, knowing she had the truth. Ruben knew their leader, General Swahili; Well, the council, but Swahili often got the blunt of the blame. It was their fault all this started; it’s their fault all this happened. They were sent off to their death, and for what? To prove Ruben’s loyalty?

Clara just shook her head, as if to tell Ruben she understood what he was asking.

“The… council has seen it best to have you back at this time,” said Clara, “They… they think it’s appropriate to have you back in this hour of need.”

“I thought so,” said Ruben, unenthusiastically.

“But we wanted you back, we would have done it anyways,” said Uri, “Well…. I would have.”

“The council just gave us the thumbs up because they need you,” said Leroy.

Ruben nodded and stared forward, he knew it would all be explained in good time. He strapped himself in and took another swig of water.

“So what do they need this time?” he asked, “It sounds like they’ve got it all figured out, and enough allies to keep them running a while. So they know my skill, so what do they need? An assassination? How about a covert mission? Moral?”

“They’re back,” burst out Uri.

Ruben’s heart jumped. He was a smart person, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it now, though as he caught his breath.

“The… the Elvidions?” he asked.

Clara shook her head, allowing her eyes to stare blankly at the ground.

“No…” said Uri.

Ruben felt a cold sweat break out in his body, and he sat back and closed his eyes. No, he thought, it can’t be. He didn’t want to talk anymore, though he did hear some mumbling and talking as he slowly felt himself slipping into some sort of sleep.

He opened his eyes, looking around at a desert wasteland. Fire and red dust blew in the wind, and a few, burnt trees and broken, charred buildings stood in the distance. Ruben walked, as if in a daze, looking about the area. He saw bodies, everywhere, charred bodies or burnt skeletons. As he walked toward a building, he saw a sign hanging slightly on it. Though heavily burnt and ripped up, he still could read it. It said Linked Earth Worlds’ Conservation Bank: Earth HQ. Ruben shook his head, and looked around again, Earth? He was on Earth? That’s funny, he thought it was more… beautiful then this.

In the sky Ruben could see a few L.E.W. Battle Ships and Frigates, orbiting the planet low, surveying the destruction. He wondered if he should call up, if he should try to get their attention. Then he noticed a few other ships, strange rounded ones that Ruben did not recognize at all. Ruben looked more around, and noticed a large structure that stuck out of the horizon. Smoke and ash seemed to surround it, and it appeared to be the source of the destruction.

“Ruben, you choose your fate; but your choice affects all.”

Ruben turned around and looked frantically for the voice. He couldn’t see the source, but he thought he recognized it someplace. Where?

The nurse finished patching up Ruben’s arm, and began packing up the supplies. Ruben moved his arm around, trying to get used to it bandaged up. Like his other bruises and scratches, he would have to get used to not using them for a while.

“Now you take it easy for a while. I don’t want to see you back here for at least a fortnight, you hear?” asked the nurse.

“Yes ma’am,” said Ruben, “and thanks.”

“It’s my duty,” said the nurse, “I do it to everybody.”

Just in that time, Uri walked in through the door. He eyed the hospital wing, and spotted Ruben. He motioned Ruben to follow, and Ruben got up and walked towards Uri.

“How you feel, Ruben?” asked Uri.

“A lot better now,” said Ruben.

“Ah, ya still look like crap, though. Oh well, I guess you’ll have to do.”

Ruben and Uri shared a quick chuckle, before Uri motioned him to follow again and headed for the door.

“C’mon, there’s someone who wants to ‘debrief’ ya.”

As they navigated through the various tunnels and rooms of the underground, Ruben was reminded of his one and only home back at Warswick. It was called Fortress Heaven, as a joke on the name Hand of God. The majority of it was underground, so Ruben felt almost at home here.

The “Hospital Wing” was filled with many large rooms, seven to be exact, that housed about 30-37 beds, operating tables, and the like each. Ruben never saw anything like it, the Hand of God must be doing better then he thought.

It wasn’t long until they walked through a garage of some kind. Mechanics worked on several LRVs and construction/movement equipment and other such machines. Ruben, again, took a small amount of time to appreciate the change to the LRV; he still couldn’t believe the Hand of God was doing so well as to actually upgrade it.

Uri quickly hustled them along, down into another passage. Ruben could here some bombs drop somewhere above, but Uri didn’t seem to think anything of it. Instead, he hurried into a room with two large double doors that were open.

Inside, Ruben saw large rows of computers and screens. Many people typed and ran around, yelling orders or findings at one another. Uri just walked through the room until he reached a group at the other end. Ruben tried to follow; he didn’t think he recognized any of the people. Then he saw Clara, and then he recognized Dex. Then he saw him, a man he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

The man had dark skin, and was tall. He was normally built, not incredibly huge like the body builder of old but was bigger then those around him. He was bald, and had no facial hair. The man wore a sturdy uniform, maroon with gold metals and lettering. He had five general’s stars on his shoulders, and the name on his chest read: Swahili.

The man turned when Uri tapped his shoulder, and immediately turned to Ruben. He smiled slightly, and held out his hand to shake it.

“Ah,” he said, still holding out his hand, “Ruben Onyx, you have no idea how relieved I am to see you.”

“You have no idea how glad I am that there’s something of me to see,” said Ruben, and he made no effort to shake the man’s hand as he replied, “So, you’ve managed to keep this place alive, have you, General Swahili. How many men have died with more of your petty suicide missions?”

The General allowed a horse, forced laugh out before he lowered his hand.

“Let’s talk elsewhere,” he said, and walked to a room directly behind him.

Ruben followed; he instantly knew it was the General’s office. There were maps and charts on the walls, but mainly the room was taken up by a desk with paperwork scatted across it. The General took a seat behind it, and sense there were no other chairs in the small office, Ruben stood in front. Clara, Uri, and Dex followed them in, closing the door behind.

“Ok, Onyx, let’s get something straight,” said the General, very firmly, “I have spent the last two years eating my black-as-night heart out because I was even part of the mission that ended in the death of your father.”

The General slammed his fist on his desk, making Ruben jump slightly. He now allowed his face to show anger, and he tried his best to stare down Ruben.

“Now don’t think you’re going to waltz in here and run the damn show. You hear me, maggot? I owe a lot, a damn lot, to your father and you. I owe a lot to every man, women, and whatever else that died that day. I owe much more then I can give to every single person who’s died because of a mistake I’ve done. Ok?” said the General, “But I’m only human, as we know we have a knack of endangering our own lives without help. Now I know what you must be going through, but…please. Don’t hold it against me.”

Ruben closed his eyes, and looked down on the floor. He had been holding his father’s death against everyone… everyone. He nodded his head, and said nothing. It was a few moments before anyone spoke again, and it was the General who broke the silence.

“I am overjoyed you’re back, son. As you’ve probably heard, now is the best time as ever for it.”

“Yes sir,” said Ruben.

“You do realize,” started the General, “That all events of your last mission have been considered classified. Anyone who needs to know about it knows, anyone who knows about it knows everything you do. There’s no need to utter a word of it.”

“I understand, General,” said Ruben.

“Good, with that, it’s time to give you the situation. Not too long ago, a mining company situated here picked up a disturbance and rumbling sound a bit off from where they were originally digging. They made a B line for it, and found… another temple. They were contemplating to open it or not when it burst, and with it a horde and a half of Gilgathons. There’s no need to continue the story, I think you can piece it together.”

“They got to the surface,” said Ruben.

“They were everywhere; using the mines that have been here so long to move like wildfire all over the mainland,” said the General, “Farms, towns, cities… nothing was too great. Millions died before the L.E.W. even knew what was happening. A spy here radioed us and… well… we couldn’t let this happen.”

“They’re awful,” said Dex, “They’ve advanced somehow, like you-know-who said. Like what we started to see on Warswick, before we killed them. Ariel creatures, Lurkers, armored Drones, and more Hunters about, it’s a mess out there.”

“Thank you, King,” said the General, “Anyway, the L.E.W. have completely blockaded the planet, and are mounting a full scale counter-attack. As you can tell, they’re not so happy with our presence here, but we’re not the main event. Now we have an edge over the Gilgathons this time, the L.E.W. and us, we know how to stop them.”

“And you want me, accompanied by a team, to break in there and bomb the queen, yes?”

“In where, Ruben?” asked the General, “That’s one of the major problems. To get to the queen you’d need to navigate through untold amounts of terrain, underground caverns, and the halls of that temple while fighting off tons of these new Gilgathons.”

Ruben had nothing to answer to that. Before, they had the help of the Elvidions, all their knowledge, power, and skill. To have all that again would require Elvidions, a lot of luck, or a large team of highly trained soldiers. None of which could be guaranteed at that time.

“So, what do you want to do?” asked Ruben.

“Let the L.E.W. deal with it for now,” said General Swahili, “What we’re going to do is do our best to fight the Gilgathons head on. We’re going to the small town of St. Paulsboro, there is a mixture of refugees, L.E.W. soldiers, and our soldiers are holding out. It’s considered a ‘last stand’ point, where no troops are allowed to fully retreat until ordered otherwise or the main force arrives.”

“When is that?” asked Ruben, “And why do we care what the L.E.W. do?”

“Because, in spite of all that we’ve done, doing, and who we’ve allied ourselves with, the Hand of God’s main purpose is to help towards the betterment of all humanity,” barked General Swahili, “In fact, I’m trying to get peace talks in motion so we can end this whole thing.”

General Swahili let out a long sigh, and allowed himself to slump into his chair, holding his head in his hands.

“I remembered how this whole mess started; our word against his. Diplomacy didn’t work, so we needed to take up arms. Soon, we decided to leave all together. Then, we found Warswick…”

The General trailed off slightly, before stopping all together, starring off into the nothingness of the ceiling. Ruben nodded his head, waiting patiently to be dismissed or for further talk to arose.

“The box on the table,” said the General, slowly, “It’s for you, Ruben.”

Ruben looked closer at the clutter of papers on the desk and noticed that, indeed, there was a small box on the papers. Ruben picked it up, and opened it. Inside, there were three bent gold bars, and a hollow gold square inside. A Sergeant’s insignia.

“Sergeant Ruben Onyx, I haven’t heard that in years, Sergeant Onyx,” said the General, and then he turned to look at Ruben and added, “Live past the rank, son. The victory of war is only as good as the number of soldiers who make it out alive.”

Ruben nodded, and rose to leave.

“The L.E.W. retaliation starts in an hour or so,” said the General, “Therefore, you leave in two. Give them hell, son.”

Ruben nodded slightly, and left the room. Clara, Dex, and Uri were quick to follow. Ruben shook his head; he couldn’t believe it was happening again, that the nightmare continued. He thought that they had killed and finished off the Gilgathons.

“Ruben, are you alright? Are you ready to do this?” asked Clara.

“Yeah, of course I am,” Ruben answered.

“Look, your father is a national hero. Maybe you’ve just been locked up too long, but the General was right. They hated their decision, they all hated it. Your dad was buried as a Major, Major Jack Onyx.”

“It’s ok,” said Ruben, shrugging it off, “I… I know I was out of line.”

A short man wearing regular soldier gear, red and rusty brown battle armor walked into the room and approached Clara.

“Captain Styx,” he said, saluting, “Should we show Sergeant Onyx is new battle armor now?”

With that, Ruben was lead away, without any explanation. He was led through the hallways and rooms again, until he was showed down a short stairway into another room, an Armory. There were gun racks set up, mostly empty, and tables. At the end, was a large double door locker. The small man went over and opened it, revealing soldiers suit and battle armor. The suit was nothing special, besides the fact that it was complete. The armor, though was brand new, still showed signs of inferiority to L.E.W. armor, but it was totally outfitted for Hand of God use in color and detail. Nice knew chest plates, armored pants, shoulder and arm pads, and a brand new helmet, among other things, and was set up. The helmet had a retractable eyepiece, which was common among L.E.W. equipment and would help amongst the battle field. On the shoulder pads shined the marks of a sergeant’s insignia, and on the front of both the outfit and the armor read Onyx.

Ruben smiled, but quickly stopped and looked at Clara.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Why it’s a new suit, it’s the first official Hand of God battle gear,” she said, admiring the look, “It’s better then the regular padding and more complete, well it is complete, and it’s 100% Hand of God. Only a few of them were made, but soon they will be produced in bigger quantities. This one is for you.”

“No,” said Ruben, “I don’t want it. Give it to another soldier. Isn’t it bad enough that I’m better in skill and reflexes, now equipment too?”

“No, Ruben,” said Uri, “You’re much greater in spirit, strength, and bravery. If you were going to hand out something like this wouldn’t you want it to go to the best? To make them even better?”

“Why can’t we make everyone better?” asked Ruben.

“Ruben,” said Dex, “Don’t fight it. Take it, ok? Besides, you know as well as us you’re going to need it.”

Ruben nodded slightly, staring at the suit and armor. He nodded again; it did beat his prison clothes. He smiled triumphantly, maybe his luck had changed after all. Without a second thought, he grabbed the clothes, and started taking off his prison shirt.

Chapter Eight is up and, hey, random fact, guess what? A couple of days ago I officially finished Silver Nava IV! Hurray! Yes, I know, cool. Now I have full attention on reworking Cleansing Warswick for publishing and... some attention on a new project. Something a little different for me. But Just a bit different.

Live, Serve, Die With Your Boots On

The constant beat of the helicopter’s blades urged Frank’s heartbeat to rise with it, but if it was going any faster then Frank wouldn’t be human. The wind blew slightly, and Frank knew if he wasn’t wearing his helmet he would have it flowing through his hair right now. He looked over the landscape, some small forests were in the distance, roads, rivers, and bridges were abundant in this landscape. Smoke rose from areas where fighting had either taken place or were taking place, and far off cities burned on the horizon. Other choppers flew around the one Frank was in, other H7 Blackhawk Elites.

Frank was drawn away from the sights back to his team, the squad he was with. He had recently been placed with these guys, these rookies. Master Sergeant McCoy leaned against the door to the pilot’s seat, he was fully dressed similarly. Next to him, looking out the door at the landscape was Hank “Hammer” Howard. Triple H was another nickname for the heavy gunner, who was the only one really battle hardened as far as Gilgathons went beside McCoy and Frank. He acted as a defense gunner on Warswick at the main base of operations, but he never really got into any fighting.

He shifted his M-48 Chain Gun around from hand to hand. The M-48 was probably the heaviest, strongest, newest, and best light machine gun ever made to date, and quickly made itself the most common in the L.E.W. military, though many colonial militia used lesser, outdated LMG styles.

Other then him, Ripley “Chicago” Shrike held on to a loop in the ceiling like Frank did and he listened to a MP4 player, bobbing his head to the beat. Ripley had his M8-7 Assault Rifle slung over his back like Frank did, and instead of a helmet he had a bandanna and wrap around sunglasses. He liked to smoke, like McCoy, except he preferred the cheap cigarette over the more expensive and rare cigars.

Beside him, lying on the ground catching some last few minutes of sleep, was Willis “Whistler” Zodiacs. Whistler earned his nickname because he always seemed to know everything. There were no secrets, there was no “out of earshot”, and there definably wasn’t any sneaking around with him present. He heard everything, and yet was the quietest out of all of them. Cradled in his arms was the C-17 Sniper Rifle. He preferred a good M8-7 Assault Rifle Grenadier, AKA: an Assault Rifle with a grenade launcher attachment, but he was a great shot and was quickly chosen to be the sniper on this mission.

“DTA: seven minutes,” said the pilot through the radio.

Immediately, McCoy got up and put out the cigarette he had been smoking, barrowed from Ripley, and turned to the group.

“Alright, ladies. On your feet,” he barked over the noise of the helicopter blades, “Chicago, put that out; Whistler, on your feet. Look alive, boys. Today’s the day you become men.”

“Heh, this isn’t one of those ‘what’s happening to my body’ speeches, is it, Sarge? Because, heh, you’re a little late,” joked Ripley.

“Now listen up, maggots!” yelled McCoy, and this time there was relative silence and he continued, “Listen up, it looks like the mayor is having a little bug problem, so we gotta go in there and get us some bug hides!”

“Hell yeah, we do,” said Ripley.

“Dibs on the big one,” said Frank, smiling a little.

“Call ‘em as you get ‘em,” said Willis.

“Alright, alright,” said the Master Sergeant, “Look, our mission is to retake the city from these Gilgathon scum, but try to keep the infrastructure as in tacked as possible. Don’t let this fool you, though. If you see the bug bastards hiding or entrenched in one of those coffee shops don’t hesitate to level the place.”

“Let’s teach these ass-munchers a lesson!” cheered Hank.

“Now listen, we’ll land in drop point FE, it doesn’t really mean anything to anyone, it’s just a drop point. Now, you will be Delta Squad for this mission,” said McCoy.

“Just us or will the others be counted?” asked Ripley.

“The WHOLE squad, of course,” answered McCoy, “Wise ass…”

“What support will we have?” asked Frank, looking out of the door again.

“DTA: Five minutes,” said the pilot.

“Not much, air support will be available, and you’ll meet up with Bravo squad when you reach the first ‘push point’. Basically, these “Push Points” will help us push back the Gilgathons and hold the city. After you secure this area, meet up with Bravo squad and push your way to Avenue Park and hold that position until support can retake the city.”

“Aw, only that? You make it seem so easy,” said Ripley.

“DTA: Four minutes.”

They got closer to the city, and ground forces could be seen bellow. Some L.E.W. Main Battle Tanks and L.E.W. Humvees were seen moving towards the city of St. Paulsboro. Frank also spotted some Mass Armored Transports, or MATs, which were large and stood out as a massive vehicle out off all the others.

“Sir, will we be getting support from one of those MBTs?” asked Hank.

“That’s a negative,” said McCoy, “You’ll be lucky to get a LBT in there, but you will get chopper support.”

“Sir,” said Whistler, “What about reports of rebel forces on the planets, and what if they’re in the area?”

Master Sergeant McCoy paused a moment before answering, “Reports read that rebel attacks on all fronts have decreased dramatically and that rebel attacks on Silver Nava IV have been non- existent. Do not fire unless fired upon.”

Everyone nodded their heads; Frank understood that it was slightly more personal for McCoy and himself. They had friends in the rebel alliance, and they knew that the rebels didn’t want to fight, but they wanted to be heard without prosecution.

As time continued, the helicopters entered the city, flying over the outer buildings and in between the higher ones. The buildings had been damaged, and some even collapsed or caved in. Cars and public transportation still littered the streets, but many had been moved out of the way or destroyed in combat. Some ground crews made their way through the city below, and some helicopters landed in areas spread across the city. A small band of L.E.W. Drop Ships came into view, spreading off to areas unknown. They could carry way more soldiers then the H7 Black Hawk Elites, but these were heading to Last Stand zones, where local law enforcement, militia, and other soldiers battled and held their positions. The soldiers in the attack helicopters, like Frank and his team, were going to the front lines, and dropped in the battle zones meant to push the Gilgathons away from the city.

Also in Frank’s view was a L.E.W. Space Cruiser hovering over the planet. Odds are it was overlooking the mass operations in this area. He knew others were probably looking over other areas around the planet, but he could only see one clearly.

“DTA: One Minute and counting.”

“Ok, when you guys hit the ground, keep your head down and make your way towards the zone,” said McCoy, a little louder over the blades of the helicopter that echoed off nearby building’s walls.

“Wait, you’re not joining us?” asked Frank.

“No, I’ll support you from the air. I will still command you and others from the chopper, where I can see all operations. You’ll have direct and personal support from this chopper,” explained McCoy.

They had entered a more centered part of the city as the chopper began to circle a certain intersection in the city. As it lowered, sounds of fighting were muffled by the buildings and the reverberation of the helicopter’s blades off the buildings. As they lowered, Frank made a last check of all his equipment.

“Hoo-Raw!” yelled several of the soldiers together as they disembarked from the helicopter.

Even though they didn’t have to, Frank as well as several others kept their heads down as they moved away from the helicopter, shortly before it rose back up into the sky. Frank gave one last look at McCoy, who half waved from his spot on the Black Hawk, and he un-slung his M9-4 Battle Rifle and aimed it out towards no where in particular.

When the helicopter was gone, the others moved into a position and started heading towards their target, which was towards the north east. As Frank, Hank, Ripley, Whistler, and the others made their way down the messy city street, they made use of all the cover they could get. Cars, busses, and debris all played a key role as cover in the urban landscape.

Frank surveyed the buildings, sweeping his rifle from spot to spot. Whistler moved up, but slowly. Frank tried to keep close to Hank, who started almost leading the pack.

The group slowly made their way down the intersection; an eerie quietness consumed the street, the soldiers searching all around them. The distant sounds of heavy machine gun fire, explosions, helicopter blades, and even a roar from some large Gilgathon were the only things that broke the silence.

A steady stream of smoke left Ripley’s mouth from his last inhale, and he tossed the cigarette aside. Not bothering to put it out.

“Smoking’s gonna kill you one day, Chicago,” whispered Hank, who chuckled at his own joke.

“What are you gonna care?” asked Ripley, “I’m gonna die from a bullet anyway. Besides, I’m working off my role model, right Sarge?”

“Bite the weenie, Chicago!” McCoy’s voice came through the radio.

At that time, the ground rumbled slightly, and a bone curling screech was heard. Frank knew the screech well, and it brought back chilling memories of a long, dark, cavern corridor. Then the roar of a Gilgathon Drone snapped him out of it, and a few yards in front of them a car exploded and Gilgathons rounded the corner, firing on the group.

Frank immediately turned and dived for cover, as did many others. Once behind cover, a pile of rubble that had covered an old mailbox, Frank poked around the corner and fired back.

The drones were big, an easy 6.5 feet tall, if not more. They had green, scaly skin, and short, snout like jaws. They wore a primitive armor style, and some of their faces were covered by a leathery veil. All wore some sort of metal cap that served as a helmet. They wielded large, bulky rifles that fired shards of sharp metal rapidly toward the men behind cover, dubbed the “Shredder” by soldiers on the front lines.

As they fired on the marines in cover, smaller, amphibian looking creatures passed them and began charging the marines. These were Warglers. They had no armor, no clothes, and no eyes, yet they could see in the darkest caverns and hear the slightest breath. They had three sharp claws on each end of their long, flimsy arms. They were slimy, and had green skin. Their mouths opened wide and showed rows of sharp, crooked teeth. These were the worst nightmare of a soldier stuck fighting in hand-to-hand combat.

As they approached, Frank and other marines made quick work of them. Drones still fired heavily at them. Whistler took out a Drone here and there, but mainly he ducked for cover as shards of metal flew over his head. It was finally Hank who pushed the Gilgathons back.

Positioning his Chain Gun over the car he was hiding behind, he left the Warglers for the others and fired upon the Drones. The Drones puny armor did nothing to save them from the mass amounts of bullets from the Chain Gun, and well over seven Drones fell before Hank turned to finish off the advancing Warglers. The remaining few Gilgathons quickly tried to run; But were finished off by either Whistler or some of the other marines as they ran off.

The squad moved no where for a bit, waiting to see if there was anything else. After they had caught their breath, they advanced at a slight jog. Jumping over bodies and rubble they let out slight cheers at the minor, meaningless victory.

They had traveled down the street only about a minute longer before the ground shook terribly and the pavement twenty yards in front of them seemed to explode from the ground. A giant creature erected itself from the ground, and smashed into the corner of a building, toppling tons of debris onto the road, and it moved away, leaving a gapping hole where Gilgathon Drones and Warglers poured out of.

“Great god,” said another Marine, “It’s a Lurker!”

Frank couldn’t get a good look at the creature, but he didn’t need one. He knew the beast was probably the most feared of all the Gilgathons, even though it wasn’t the most dangerous. It stood an easy three stories, and had a long, worm-like body with six, long legs with three gripping fingers at the end. The creature also had two shorter arms in the front by its giant, gapping mouth with its metal destroying, long teeth. The arms had claws on them, which spelt death for any who were close enough. Its hide was tough and armored, the outer carapace strong enough to deflect many weapon types. Lurkers were known for being blind, despite have patches of heavily armored pads in the area where eyes should be, suggesting eyes were once, or soon will be, in their genetic makeup. They made up for this in surprisingly good hearing and a sense of smell that rivaled a dog’s. It moved surprisingly fast for a gigantic beast, and was out of their sight soon.

As soon as the Lurker was out of sight and not a threat, Frank turned his attention on the Drones and Warglers converging on his position. The flash and steady stream of bullets came from Hank’s Chain Gun as several other marines opened fire. Frank was right in joining them with his rifle to his shoulder and pulling the trigger, watching as a Wargler collapsed under his fire.

Frank saw the flash of the Drone’s guns as enemy fire zoomed pass his head. He only half-heartedly looked for cover, but found himself in the middle of a slightly open area with several other marines. The others had found some cover in the wreckage of the city. Frank quickly stopped worrying about shooting the enemy and he ran for a nearby car for cover. It wasn’t long for that to become the focus point of Gilgathon fire, and the car ringed with pings coming from the enemy’s fire. The few marines caught in the fire who didn’t have cover were quickly riddled with bullets. Two died immediately, two others hit the ground as they slowly died from internal wounds. Only one was wounded, hit several times in the leg. As he lay there, he still fired his Assault Rifle heroically.

Frank emerged from the car and fired shots at Warglers who were getting too close, and tried his best to fire some shots in the direction of the Drones. The Gilgathons were closing the gap, and Frank knew they wouldn’t stand a chance if they got close enough for hand-to-hand combat.

“Sarge,” yelled Whistler, “We’re getting torn a part out here!”

“Hold on,” said the Sergeant’s voice over the radio, “We’re on the way.”

With that, it wasn’t too long until the sound of the helicopter got closer, and it rounded a building behind them and hovered over them. The Gatling gun on its nose was already spinning menacingly, but it took a second before the gun started shooting out heavy fire at the Gilgathons. The bullets streamed over the large group. Drones were quickly riddled with bullets, and Warglers didn’t even stand a chance, and were reduced to a heap of bones within a shot. The Gilgathons tried to turn their fire on the big, monstrous, black helicopter but their bullets did nothing serious to the armor.

Soon Frank felt the Gilgathon bullets lighten around him, as if many of the Drones stopped shooting, which is just what happened. He then peered around, and began shooting at the preoccupied Drones. He quickly noticed he was not the only one, because Hank and Whistler and another marine had picked it up quite fast. Soon, the majority of the Drones and Warglers that had been standing at the mouth of the hole a moment before were left in a giant heap of bleeding flesh and shattered bones in less then two minutes.

“Alright, quickly now; Perks and Jones, get Maverick to the push point and wait there for reinforcements,” said McCoy from the Black Hawk, “You’ll have unlimited chopper cover. The rest of you, you’re not exactly at the push point, but you did the job. The Gilgathons are pulling back for the time being. Now, rendezvous with Bravo and hit these Gilgathon scum hard!”

“We’re on it,” said Frank.

The remaining other two marines picked up the injured one and helped him down the road. Frank and the rest, making up of Ripley, Whistler, and Hank, followed them only until the next intersection, where they continued going straight while Frank and the others turned right and continued cautiously down the street, using whatever they could as cover.

Frank didn’t see anything down the street, just broken or burning vehicles, broken glass covered the streets from shop windows, and a corpse here or there surrounded by small rubble or bullet casings. They walked slowly, wading through the light fog of dust that flowed through the air.

“This place… it’s…. where’s all the people?” asked Hank.

“They’re either in a refugee party out of the city or… well… yeah,” said Master Sergeant McCoy, “There was point nine-five million people in the city when the Gilgathons hit, we’ve only accounted for around four thousand civilians who’ve escaped and two hundred en-route to leaving the city.”

“Wow,” said Ripley, “I bet the property values of these apartments have dropped considerably.”

“Ass,” said Whistler, so quiet they could only hear it over the radio.

They were about to near the end of the street when they saw movement. Frank quickly aimed his rifle in that direction, and nobody moved.

A bunch of L.E.W. marines rounded the corner, many just continued running across the small intersection and took up guarded positions around the area. Two of the Marines ran up to meet with Frank and Hank as Whistler and Ripley took up covering their backs.

“Master Sergeant Huskly, Bravo Squad. You men are with me now, we’re moving to the park,” said the Master Sergeant, then he asked, “Are you it?”

“No, sir. We lost four of our group back near our push point, so two of our guys escorted our wounded man who survived to the push point to wait for support, while we met up with you early,” explained Hank.

“So be it,” said Huskly, “Let’s move out!”

As they went to move, a L.E.W. Light Battle Tank rolled into view and followed Bravo Team down the next street.

“What, you have a tank?” asked Ripley, “Rip-Off!”

“You got guaranteed air support,” answered Huskly.

“Yeah, lot of help that is,” said Ripley, “Sarge is using it as an excuse to hide out and get out of the real fighting.”

“I heard that,” boomed McCoy’s voice over the radio, “Boy, when I get my hands on you, Chicago…”

“Don’t worry McCoy, we’ll make sure he dies in the next fight,” joked Huskly.

“No, I want him alive,” said McCoy back.

Frank couldn’t help but give a nervous chuckle, the only chuckle he had on the whole operation, as they followed the massive Light Battle Tank down the next street. Frank immediately began looking for Gilgathons in the buildings, but he was paying more attention to the sound of bombs dropping farther away.

Ruben and the other rebels had been riding in the LRV Transport for about an hour, and the city had only just gotten into sight. Ruben felt a slight chill go up his spine. For the first time in a while, he was actually happy he had made it off the prison ship. For some reason, he had wished he had just stayed, to find out who he was, to find out what his fate was. Now, he was glad to have some say in what it was, fighting for a good cause.

The thought was quickly overlooked as the LRV suddenly slowed down. Ruben moved to the back of the LRV, slowly stepping over Leroy and Clara to get to the last seat. He looked out at the group of rebels sent to St. Paulsboro. There was one other LRV Transport and two LRV attack vehicles. There was also a Hand of God Armored Attack Vehicle, AAV. These were brand new, and Ruben loved the look of them. They were the closest thing the Hand of God had to a tank. It had two sets of large armored wheels, a heavily armored body, and a turret with an 80. caliber machine gun and a short range grenade launcher. It was rolling at its top speed, 65, and it slowed the convoy down, but it wasn’t even thought of by the Desert Rat drivers because its presence calmed everyone down, giving a sense of power to the rebel group.

Ruben looked out over the land, and calmed as he watched the clouds move slowly overhead.

“There won’t be much time when we get there,” said a voice from the front of the LRV, “So get out and disperse as fast as possible.”

Ruben turned back and sighed slightly. A man sitting across from him held out his hand, as if to shake it.

“Felix, Sergeant Felix, sir,” said the man.

“Sergeant Onyx,” replied Ruben, shaking his hand back.

“Oh, I know who you are, Ruben. I’ve known longer then most,” said Felix, “It helps that you’re the legendry soldier of the alliance, but Uri doesn’t shut his mouth, you’re his hero.”

“Ah,” said Ruben, “Figures…”

“Ruben, allow me to introduce to you some of the chaps who are going to be helping you. This is Lance Corporal Karen,” a girl to Felix’s side nodded slightly, not bothering to smile, “and this is-”

Ruben looked out again, and was surprised when he saw some soldiers walking in the other direction. Then he noticed there were some people also walking in that direction. Suddenly the LRV slowed down slightly more, and Ruben looked around. He got up and hung out of the LRV, looking over the top of it. He saw a mass group of people, covered in dirt and blood. Many crying and screaming for loved ones, others yelled in anger. Ruben couldn’t help but allow his mouth to drop. Refugees.

He didn’t even notice that Felix had joined him, overlooking the crowds of mourning people.

“All lost,” he said, “All homeless, and all just trying to survive the moment.”

Ruben shook his head, watching as an older lady called out for her children. A mother hugged her crying daughter, and a man called out the name of his wife, looking frantically through the crowd.

“This city had so many people in it,” said Felix, “We can’t even begin to count how many civilians lost their lives. It’ll make Warswick look like a walk in the park. Most of these people had no protection, no warning, and no escape. It just… came.”

“It’s, it’s terrible. What’s Lou doing to help them?” asked Ruben.

“The L.E.W. did all they could, evacuated a bunch of civilians out of areas they refused to give up in major cities all across the planet and are the only off-planet evacuation out there. As far as the city goes? They were the only help until we just got involved. Now we’re only concentrating on getting these people out, while the L.E.W. actually does all the hard work of fighting.”

“We won’t be engaging Gilgathons?” asked Ruben.

“Please, sir. I’m sure we’ll engage. We just aren’t going to send out a lot of chaps just to take back a L.E.W. city. Surely you understand? We’re just doing enough to make a safe place for citizens to escape.”

Ruben nodded even more. The city loomed overhead, and the sounds of war echoed in between the buildings. The massive skyscrapers loomed over all, casting uneasy shadows over the streets. As they entered the outer part of the city, few tall buildings still stood. A gas station was being used as a medical and, unsurprisingly, a refueling center. The streets were littered with abandoned cars, and Hand of God soldiers tried to clear them out of the way as best they could. Once to the side or set up as a bunker, the soldiers siphoned their gas and re-used it elsewhere. Many small tents had been erected, and men with megaphones yelled orders and encouragement to the refugees as they left the city.

Ruben tried not to make eye contact with anyone as they entered, but he couldn’t help catching the glances of several soldiers and refugees. Ruben felt a pat on his leg and he ducked back down with Felix.

“We’ll be getting into position soon,” said Clara, “Now reinforcing our lines is all we’re here for. Strictly defense, understand? A few Gilgathon packs have been sighted so we must be ready to attack at a moments notice.”

“You afraid?” said Karen to Felix.

“Not really,” remarked Felix, “I always knew I’d die with a rose in my hand. Look, I don’t have a rose. I must be ok.”

“Yeah, you say that now,” remarked Leroy.

“Ok,” yelled the desert rat from the front, “We’re here, move out!”

Quickly, Ruben jumped out of the back, and checked the cylindrical clip on his Assault Rifle. The others were right behind him, and the second Transport LRV drove up next to them, and their passengers unloaded. Uri was among them, with a few other soldiers. One Ruben barely remembered. He was an older gentleman. And he wielded a Battle Rifle and a 12 gauge automatic shotgun. He was Sergeant Malcolm, one of the trainers Ruben had in basic training.

“Onyx,” yelled Malcolm, and he walked over to him, “You look good, boy, but you forget the first rule of dispersal.”

“Keep your head down?” asked Ruben.

“No, Disperse!”

With that, Ruben headed over to the side of the road as the LRVs turned around and headed towards another spot. The AAV moved forward up to a roadblock, and its turret swept the streets. When he reached the side, Ruben turned to the others.

“Ok, now what?” he asked.

“We don’t have a mission right now,” said Malcolm, “So we’ll just stay here, help with the perimeter. Go Defensive, you know?”

“Incoming!” yelled a soldier from somewhere, and a scream was heard through the sky. A piece of debris was seen flying through the air, a trail of dust behind it, as it slammed into the side of a building. Some civilians screamed, but no one was actually hurt. Ruben looked around frantically, trying to pinpoint a slight cawing noise he heard. He could see some birds flying in the air.

“I thought all the wildlife was removed from the cities a while back?” asked Leroy.

“Those aren’t birds, Terkins,” said Malcolm, “Those are pigeons straight from hell. Some sort of Gilgathon breed, Giant flying… beasts of death, we’re not sure their use yet because they haven’t really attacked anything yet.”

An explosion was heard, not too far up, and some soldier ran past them. Ruben looked around slightly, as an attack LRV rolled pass them.

“Come on,” said Clara, “I’ll take my team this way, you take yours the other way, if anything comes up we’ll meet up… there, at the Ice Cream Parlor. Sync?”

“Sync,” said Malcolm.

“Ok, let’s go. Ruben, Leroy, Uri, and Suray; let’s go.”

With that, Ruben followed Clara down another street, following the commotion of the soldiers.

Heat overwhelmed Frank as a car exploded nearby. Debris and shrapnel washed over him, pinging off his armor and digging into his padding and clothes. He was the lucky one, because another soldier next to him took the full force of the blast, and his body was riddled with shrapnel, glass, and scraps of metal.

Instinctively, Frank allowed his body to hit the ground, hard. As he raised his head, he didn’t bother trying to get up, he just aimed his rifle from the prone position and fired at a Wargler who had just hopped a piece of rubble. Another bang was heard, this time the barrel of the Light Battle Tank flashed and a round slammed into the side of a bank further down the street, instantly killing the Gilgathon Drones that were using it for a bunker.

It had been a long and hard path to get to the park. Bravo team, and their LBT, made the trip so much easier, but they could never really have just waltzed through it. The going got tough, fast, as the Gilgathons poured out of subway exits, port holes, and abandoned buildings. Frank stayed on his toes, but he often found himself overwhelmed.

He suddenly felt a hand grip him and lift him up. He turned and looked, seeing that it was Hank who helped him up. Hank aimed his Chain Gun and fired again, mowing down a bunch of Gilgathons down the street.

The tank aimed at a building and fired, causing the rubble to fall on a subway exit, crushing the Gilgathons underneath it and blocking the exit. The remaining Gilgathons began a reluctant retreat, they didn’t run away but they didn’t advance. It wasn’t long until they were at a full scale retreat, firing behind them as they tried to hit a couple of soldiers.

“Move forward!” yelled Huskly, “The Park is on the other side of that building.”

“Bravo team, there’s heavy Gilgathon activity in the Park,” said McCoy, “Be advised, the main force will be right on your ass, MBTs and heavy hitters coming your way.”

“Roger that, McCoy,” said Huskly, “When you gonna join us?”

“I’ll join you when the chopper needs refueling,” said McCoy, “As of right now, we’re gonna make a pass and use up our last few missiles.”

“I’m a choppers ride away from kicking your ass, Chicago,” yelled McCoy over the radio, “Keep your head in the game. Hammer, slap him for me.”

“If I wanted to waste energy on him I’d spit on him,” said Hank.

Frank didn’t bother joining the talk as they walked into the Park. The Park was large and wide, surrounded by tall buildings that reflected the images of the Park. Two large suspended highways hung over the Park, no supports holding them up. One entire large section of one of them had been blown away, and the debris scattered around the Park.

Several Packs of Gilgathons were running about the Park, many heading towards them. The main thing that caught Frank’s eye was the large Lurker in the Park, looking around, not really moving anywhere. It gave a large roar as some of the soldiers shot their weapons at the Gilgathons.

“Lurker! Open fire!” yelled Huskly.

The LBT had no quicker entered the Park then it aimed and fired on the lurker. The blast hit the lurker’s hard carapace and the lurker jerked slightly and roared even louder. The ground a few meters behind the lurker began to crack and rise, and another Lurker rose from the dirt, and roared angrily.

Hank continued to fire shots into the Lurkers as a rumbling sound grew behind Frank. Frank turned suddenly, seeing a L.E.W. MBT rumble into view and immediately fired two heavy rounds into the carapace of the Lurker. To Frank’s left, down another street two more MBTs appeared, along with L.E.W. Army Soldiers with Rocket launchers.

The L.E.W. Main Battle Tanks dwarfed their smaller cousins, the LBTs. They had two cannons on their turret, though shorter then LBTs, they could throw heavier rounds at a target. It’s armor thickened it’s body so it barely made it down normal civilian streets, and it made pancakes out of any vehicle or debris that was unlucky enough to fall in it’s path.

“Get some fire on those Lurkers!” yelled Huskly as he viciously pointed at the Lurkers.

Someone beside Huskly slung his assault rifle and took out a think pair of binoculars, and aimed it at the Lurkers. Huskly activated a laser pointed on his battle rifle and aimed it at the Lurkers, then soldiers around him activated laser pointers on their guns and did the same.

“Here they come, sir!” yelled the soldier with binoculars, “They’re hot and ready!”

Frank activated his laser pointer and aimed it, as explosions and gunfire continued around him. A few barricaded-in Drones fired upon them, and a few from building tops. A good pack or so made their way into the park, heading towards the L.E.W. soldiers.

Frank almost missed it; he barely looked up in time to see them. Two L.E.W. TC-13 Thunder Birds came zooming in below the buildings and into the Park. They were there a split second; they seemed to fly silently as they dropped a bunch of bombs on their targets. The Lurkers, along with most of the Gilgathon-controlled Avenue Park, burst with explosions and flame. Then, the planes were gone without a noise. Before Frank could comprehend what happened, a slight rumble, like the sound of the two planes, seemed to come from where they were a moment ago and they screamed in and through the Park and Off. The sound was so loud it rattled the ground and Frank’s bones, and the noise shattered any remaining windows that were in the buildings surrounding the park. The noise of the planes almost blotched out the sound of the explosions, and the shrieks of the Lurkers and they Gilgathons caught in the blast.

The L.E.W. Soldiers took cover only a second as debris fell onto them, but even as the Lurkers fell dead and the flames still engulfed much of the park they ran forward, shooting down any survivors and re-taking the park. The last remaining pieces of the highway quivered, then crumbled down upon the park, creating a tomb of cement and concrete and steel for the Lurkers and Gilgathons. The tanks immediately pulled forward, shooting into the surrounding buildings and at retreating Gilgathons.

As Frank moved forward with Willis and Ripley, a Black Hawk helicopter circled overhead, and then landed allowing McCoy to get off and run over to them. Ripley fingered his ears, which still rang from the Thunder Bird strike, and Willis watched as Hank tried to make his way over.

“Way to go, gentlemen,” said McCoy, “I bet those reptilian dirt bags will feel that burn for years to come.”

“Alright, now let’s set up a perimeter here, and do some chasin of those Gilgathon wussies,” said McCoy.

“Sir, how did the others look?” said Willis.

“The others are getting similar results,” started McCoy, ducking as an explosion is heard at the edge of the park, “We’re pushing the Gilgathons back, as you would expect from a retaliation against an unopposed foe. Command doesn’t want us to get cocky, though; as on Warswick these Gilgathons easily outnumber us. Ships are being dropped into seas all over, and only one city as been shelled to the point of rubble.”

“So we’re winning?” asked Ripley.

“No matter what occurs out of the events of today,” said McCoy, “There are little ‘victories’ that will cover the wounds of our losses. We’re pushing them back? That’s good. So let’s dig them right back to the depths of hell as which these bastards came!”

“Hoo-Raw!” yelled Ripley, Hank, and Frank together.

They headed off in the direction of the edge of the park, joining their fellow soldiers in combat. Little did they know that as they pushed the Gilgathons back, the Gilgathons began to build up on the city’s northern edge, and outside of the city. It was several hours of fighting before command gave the command to McCoy and other commanders in the area to pull back to the park, and hold there until reinforcements could be settled in and a more organized attack could continue.

A moving machine exploded, killing two Elvidions who were using it as cover. Rebuz felt as if he could feel their deaths in his heart, but instead he switched to plasma rounds and rose from cover. He fired a burst, setting off a barrel of chemicals that exploded, killing five Heretics and destroying a makeshift bunker. As Rebuz continued firing at the heretics, the heretics again began to retreat down the enormous hallway towards the main complex.

After filling the hallway with atmosphere, and pressurizing it to match the atmosphere inside the two complexes, Rebuz and what was left of his troops made a mad dash into the hallway and made their way towards the main complex. The heretics had, in fact, regrouped and made their first offensive move as about 75 heretics charged the Elvidions. After a minute of the worst fighting yet, the Elvidions had once again started pushing the heretics back. Now, with the last few heretics in a full scale retreat, Rebuz was looking forward to winning this. According to the radio, Rebuz figured that similar events were happening all over.

As Rebuz reached the end, the last few heretics stopped retreating and the door was locked. After another short fight, all the remaining lay dead, and Rebuz made his way forward to the door.

“Quick sir,” said a Zul’ Nugul beside Rebuz, “The heretics have stopped their fleeing. We must be getting closer.”

A rumble shook through the asteroid. Rebuz stopped for a moment, looking around out the windows of the hallway. Soon the rumble stopped and the Elvidions were left looking around. Then the radio crackled on, and the sounds of battle came through, then Zeon’s voice.

“What was that?”

“Sir, this is the carrier,” said the voice of a Zul’ Nugul, “There’s a space craft launching from the asteroid. It’s… it’s a rocket class vessel, Captor.”

“Sir, since it’s a rocket class it’s too fast for us. We can’t catch it,” said the Carrier Captain.

“Sir, we must hurry,” said Biozard, in barely a whisper.

Rebuz nodded, and then stuck the small decoder box onto the keypad of the door. The small light above the door turned from purple to orange, and the door opened, revealing a hallway like room inside.

The room was huge, longer then it was wide only slightly. Crates and barricades filled the room, some computer terminals and holo-pads could also be seen. There were several doors around, many locked. There were only a few heretics in the room, and they were ready for a fight.

Rebuz ducked behind some crates, but the heretics were shot down before Rebuz raised his head again. He rose, and began examining the crates, like other Elvidions in his team.

“Sir, it appears to be some type of processing station,” commented a Drunthor, examining the computer screens.

“This is where they said the heretics are experimenting with their machines,” said Rebuz.

“Let us go, Tork Rebuz,” said the Drunthor again, “We must squash this heresy like an insect.”

“We must split up and try to cripple the heretic’s process as much as we can,” Rebuz ordered.

With that, another Zul’ Nugul opened the main door and the two Drunthors followed the rest through the doorway. There were some sounds of battle, but then silence. Elrond began searching through the computer systems and Biozard searched the bodies.

“What have we found?” asked Rebuz.

“Nothing,” said Elrond, “Nothing about the leader, it just seems to be… blueprints.”

“Blueprints?” asked Rebuz, as he checked the holo-screen in front of Elrond.

On the screen, a blueprint of a circular object was shown, then the object was taken apart and its parts labeled in Elvidion. Rebuz scrunched his face in disgust.

“Sir, they appear to be weapon’s blueprints,” said Elrond.

“Destroy them,” said Rebuz, “Destroy these sinful experiments.”

“Sir, we shouldn’t do anything before consulting the Protice, or at least Zeon.”

Rebuz shook his head before angrily saying, “I’m not sure I trust Zeon much anymore.”

Elrond quit fiddling with the holo-panel and turned to Rebuz.

“Now Rebuz, do my ears deceive me?”

“Do not start with me,” said Rebuz, “He’s different.”

“Why?” asked Elrond, “Because he is blessed with a promotion of two kinds? Or because he is favored by the High Protice?”

“Well… it’s neither. Stop this nonsense.”

“Rebuz,” exclaimed Biozard, “Look at this.”

Biozard opened a door; on the other side was a small room that was way longer then wide. It was nothing but walls, except one side was a long window. Rebuz walked into the room, followed by Elrond and Biozard. They looked through the window, into a large warehouse. It was filled with many boxes and crates, and some heretics rushed around making barricades and makeshift bunkers. Conveyer belts ran to and fro in the warehouse, with various parts lying on it.

The things that caught Rebuz’s eyes were not those, however, but the contraptions in the room. On huge racks in the room, and lined up in rows towards the back of the room, stood large mechanical suits that dwarfed even Drunthor battle armor. In the “face” section, Rebuz could look right into the visor and saw an area big enough for an entire Zul’ Nugul. Besides looking like it had little to know head, the suit had two long arms, and stood on a tripod-like 3 legs that were pointed at the bottom.

In other areas of the room were other contraptions. These looked much more like the human tanks, except they had two giant plasma cannons on them. Instead of tracks or wheels, the device had four grav-pads on each corner of it’s rounded rectangular base. These were currently acting as stands as the contraption was in an off mode, but when turned on they would propel the contraption off the ground and into the air, moving smoothly across any surface.

There were other parts and things on conveyer belts and in boxes around the warehouse, but Rebuz didn’t really take any notice to them.

“So this is what they have been working on here,” said Elrond.

“Cool,” commented Biozard.

“No, sinful,” said Rebuz, “Why would they labor so hard on machines of war? Why would they try to hide them here?”

“Tork Rebuz,” Crackled Zeon’s voice over the radio, “We are breaching the main complex, we are making our way to the control center. There’s a team below you readying to breach that warehouse. Give them covering fire from your position, and then move in to engage and destroy these wretched heretics!”

“Zeon, I was under the impression that we would assault the control room together,” said Rebuz, “Besides, there are few heretics, and any team of ours can take them out alone.”

“No, Tork. We can handle it, now do as ordered; and when addressing me you will do so as “Sir”, “Captor”, or “Captor Zeon”,” Zeon said, before cutting off communications.

Rebuz felt the anger inside of him swell as he looked down on the warehouse.

“He’s up to something,” said Rebuz, “I’ve never known Zeon to be so… secretive. He’s changed…”

“How did he know where we were?” said Elrond, “And that a team was about to attack a warehouse of heretics?”

Rebuz looked around, and spotted a small security camera in the next room, looking down on them. He pointed at it, and left the observatory room into the next room. Elrond and Biozard followed, eyeing the camera.

“Ah, that explains it,” said Elrond.

“Which means they’re already in the control room,” exclaimed Biozard.

“I knew it,” snarled Rebuz, and he began heading towards one of the doors.

“And where are you going?” asked Elrond.

“We’re going to figure out what’s going on, and perhaps get some answers as to Zeon’s treachery.”

“Treachery?” asked Elrond in a confused way, and he followed Rebuz out of the room.

It didn’t take long for Rebuz to reach the control center. Though the sounds of combat could still be heard through the halls, Rebuz and his team never encountered any heretics. As they got closer, there were signs of the fighting getting heavier. AT one point, they passed a room where other Elvidions had set up a medical bay. There were two dead Zul’ Nugul, and three wounded as two other Zul’ Nugul treated them as best they could.

Rebuz looked on, shaking his head. This was meant to be a simple operation, they had the element of surprise and out powered the heretics. Yet, every loss they sustained seemed to scar Rebuz’s soul.

The asteroid shook once more, and a great rumbling came from deep in the asteroid. Rebuz could now pick up Zeon’s radio transmissions. They must be getting close. Rebuz rounded another corner when he heard the carrier’s Zul’ Nugul speaking to Zeon.

“Captor, two more rockets have launched from the asteroid, also some escape pods have also launched, but they’ll never make it out of the asteroid field.”

“Do not worry,” chuckled Zeon’s voice through the radio, “Soon the heretics won’t be able to launch their escape rockets. We are overriding their emergency controls now.”

“Sir, I sent out some troop transports to pick up the pods. We may be able to salvage some. Should we engage the rockets? If we hurry, we may be able to critically wound them before they get out of range.”

“Negative, Ship Master, we can’t risk harming the heretic leader while there’s a chance to capture him for judgment.”

Rebuz saw a door ahead of him, guarded by two Zul’ Nugul. Rebuz lifted his visor, and nodded at the two. They both raised their fists to their chests, and Rebuz walked through the doors and into the control room.

The control room was much like the rest of the installation. Many holo-screens lined the walls, and a lot of computer terminals were seen across the room. Some bodies of heretics lay on the ground and some Zul’ Nugul moved their bodies into a corner into a pile. On one of the screens was the face of Protice Zasz, and Zeon talked to him on a pedestal that was raised slightly more then the rest of the room. Zeon looked slightly flustered, and Zasz was hurriedly explaining something to him.

“…your done with the heretics there, we need you to hurry towards the human planet so we may assess the Gilgamite outbreak,” said Zasz.

“Sir, we have nearly crushed all of the heretics here, but we have no sign of the heretic leader,” said Zeon quickly.

“That doesn’t matter now,” said Zasz, “We have practically crushed the heresy. With no factories to make their sinful war machines and broadcast their lies they are basically nothing but non believers and hoodlums in which could be dispatched with a mere special ops team in the future. On the other hand is this outbreak. Somehow, the queen was awoken without the aid of a crystal, and the buried prison was reached by the humans after the Gilgamites began their ascension to the surface. Now we’ve lost contact with our lookout at the Demon Queen’s Prison and we’re sending and our home world sent an entire fleet to check it out. Now listen, we are getting almost an entire armies worth of reinforcements, and we, the Protice, are personally overlooking the human’s planetary operations. We were instructed only to engage if it looked like the beasts have won against the humans and were ready to leave the planet.”

“High Protice, do you approve if I didn’t tell Tork Rebuz of this, and it became my mission?”

“I do not approve!”

Zeon spun around hurriedly, a scowl on his face, and Zasz’s eyes turned toward Rebuz as Rebuz approached the podium.

“Tork Rebuz!” yelled Zeon, “You’ve disobeyed a direct order from a superior!”

“Silence, Zeon, before I am forced to cut out your tongue and feed it to the Xel’gariehn,” and without waiting for a response, Rebuz turned to Zasz and said, “What of the Gilgamite infestation?”

Zasz sighed, and hesitated, but then he said, “The Gilgamites have broken out of Sector 18s Prison, by themselves and have infested the human occupied planet.”

“And the human defensive?” asked Rebuz.

“Who cares,” barked Zeon, “The humans will never be able to hold.”

“They have not yet lost the planet,” said Zasz calmly.

“High Protice,” said Rebuz, firmly slamming his fist to his chest and bowing slightly, “I must urgently request that I go planet side and aid the human resistance force.”

“Out of the question!” snapped Zeon, “Tork Rebuz, you are in serious violation of Militia Code-”

“I mind not!” yelled Rebuz, “Please, Zeon speaks truth. The Humans won’t stand a chance down there alone. If I can help them.”

“Please, Rebuz, you must understand. Again, our orders have been sent, for the second time in many millenniums, that we should not engage or revel ourselves to the Humans.”

“And why not?” said Rebuz.

Zasz said nothing, just stared on in amazement. Never had a Zul’ Nugul questioned a Protice or higher commander and not been brought up on heresy charges. Rebuz feared no heresy charges, but then again he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“We are supposed to be a brother species to them. They could also be the children of our God, possibly made in his own image! And what do we do? We wait! We’ve waited far too long for an order that has never come, for a decision that will never be made. Watching, studying in secret,” cried out Rebuz.

“Let’s keep in mind, Tork,” said Zasz, “You would still be the Coinshack in a backwater post observing records and patrolling a ship’s hulls if it wasn’t for my grace to listen to your ideas about the Human’s movements on Warswick.”

Rebuz lowered his head, for he knew the High Protice spoke truth. He was a nobody, a regular Zealot, as the Human’s say an “Average Joe” until he realized what the humans were doing on Warswick. Then, he was blessed with the opportunity to do something about it, and that made his life, his legacy, his chance.

“And,” said Zasz, “In another light, we must remember the outcome of that decision.”

Rebuz expected another chastisement for his contact with humans, but was surprised with the result.

“If we did act faster, the whole outbreak on Warswick could have been diverted, and maybe this whole problem postponed or crushed altogether,” said Zasz, “And if we didn’t send you, or if you didn’t make the decision to bond with the humans, we couldn’t very well conclude that we were guaranteed our plan would work, and Warswick could have been a total disaster.”

Rebuz almost couldn’t hold back a smirk at Zeon’s look of anguish.

“So, in that light, I must ask you, Rebuz; Are you sure that you descending to the planet would benefit the Humans?”

“High Protice,” started Rebuz, “I believe it would not hinder them, and I believe we can find a conclusion to this problem, if not find the reason why it started.”

Zasz paused a moment, as if in thought. He nodded slightly, turning off screen to an unknown source, and then back.

Zeon’s angered flared, and he tried to protest, but Zasz just continued.

“You, and the remainder of your original team, will make it planet side under all caution. You will keep your secrecy under all costs, and try to make contact with the SAME humans you did last time. With them, you will make a plan of how to stop the Gilgamites from overthrowing the planet. You will spend 2 moon rotations observing the situation on the planet and find your humans. Any questions?”

Rebuz smiled, “No sir, put me on the first transport to the planet.”

“Good, I’m putting a lot on you, Tork Rebuz. Do not make me regret it.”

“P-Protice Zasz, you can’t possibly think that… but… you see he disobeyed… b-but… what about me?” stammered Zeon.

“You will continue your quest against the heresy until other action must be taken. As I believe you were saying, you have not found or caught the heretic leader?”

“N-no, High Protice,” stammered Zeon.

“Then you better get to work, God knows what he’s up to and I’d like to know soon, too.”

“Sir, this is unacceptable!” said Zeon, raising his voice as he slammed his fist down on the keypad, hitting a button.

Another screen appeared, showing the face of an older Zul’ Nugul with an eye patched artificial eye glowing green, this image also showed on all of the screens except of Zasz’s screen. He seemed to be recorded, for he didn’t respond to the room. All eyes turned to the screen.

“You are all blind, all of you deceived by our Zealous driven Protice. What makes them different then us? What makes them able to dictate what we can and can’t do? What allows them to restrict our rights, and destroy what freedoms we could grasp? Why do we follow them? Why do we fight for them, die for them? My brothers, I ask you; if the Humans are happy, then why can’t we be? If the Humans are God’s chosen Species, then why have they strayed so far from his word? Look at them… they are happy, they prosper, and soon they will out do us in technology as well as numbers because of it. Soon, very soon, they will discover us, and why? Because we have not secured our place as superiors in the human eye! Our secretive ways makes us cowards. I will change this! I believe there is no God, I believe there is freedoms we can enjoy. How will I prove this? How will I share my vision to these… Protice Parasites we look after and hold dear? Why… I will destroy the humans! That’s right, in my studies, I have devised a contraption that will surely destroy the human home world, Earth.”

“Vial, desolate creature,” murmured Elrond.

“He wouldn’t dare,” mentioned Biozard.

“With most of the Humans destroyed, and our spot as superiors set in stone, I will then see who will join me in my quest to lead us, the Elvidions, into the future of prosperity! Any who still believes in the old ways after that will need to be regrouped for some… reteaching. Any who retaliate will be… extinguished. This is your warning as I, Wvenderdash, prepares for our REAL salvation.”

With that, the screens went dark, and the other screen disappeared. Zasz was quiet, so were Rebuz and Biozard.

“Looks like another shares my hate for the humans,” said Zeon, snickering at Rebuz.

“Maybe you should join him, be his second in command,” barked Rebuz.

“Unfortunately, my hate isn’t that deep, and I hate heretics. God help me, I will kill this son of a Beogulch.”

“Then we have much to ponder about,” said Zasz, “A war on two fronts; The Gilgathons beckoning to arise again, and a heresy threatening a fellow species. I will have to pray and meditate.”

“Sir,” barked the Zul’ Nugul from the carrier over the radio, “That broadcast went all around. Hit all our ships, and is currently streaming across space to all Elvidion transmitters everywhere. Soon, all of Elvidion space will see it.”

“So…” commented Zasz, “The fight begins.”

And with that, Zasz’s screen went dark. Zeon stood, clenching his first, fingering his space helmet with the other hand. Rebuz said nothing, he stared a moment, then turned and walked out of the room. Another rumble shook the asteroid again, as more rockets launched. After a while, a giant explosion was heard.

As Rebuz walked through the doors, he heard a Zul’ Nugul inside say, “Captor, we have stopped the rockets. They have no where to run, and reinforcements have landed.”

“Good,” said Zeon, barely understandable to those in the room, “Kill them all like Trewlines. Not a single one lives to judgment, send them to hell swiftly!”

The radio softly played some sort of light rock song when Frank awoke. He was in a makeshift fox hole/bunker that they had put together in the park. Frank rose, grabbing his assault rifle. Sounds of war could still be heard farther off, but Frank wasn’t afraid.

In the short two days of the offensive, they had pushed the Gilgathons back hard, winning back over half the city in the first days strike. They didn’t even receive the second wave of reinforcements, but earlier that morning Frank noticed that the Army MAT did make it up to them. The “Last Stand” areas were almost emptied of troops as the L.E.W. began easing up on their offensive and began making sure the area they had taken was Gilgathon free. The “Last Stand” areas began being used for refugees as the L.E.W. began evacuating them out of the city with better organization. Now it just seemed like a wait. The Army boys laughed, joked, a gawked at the Marines, who slept and tried to get as much rest as they could after the first days offensive.

Frank didn’t care, he was so tired, he wanted to sleep; and, boy, did he love those 5 minute cat naps he got. Unfortunately, the horrors of the offensive kept him awake, so mainly he just lay around and rested. The Army Soldiers bothered Hank, but he was disciplined enough to not care. Ripley, on the other hand, often got into arguments when the taunting came around. He entered secret competitions against the Army Soldiers, and was one of the first to start fights with Army personnel. Whistler was himself, never seemed to sleep, but when he was he was the only one who could easily. He was quiet, often spent time away from their bunker around the perimeter with his sniper rifle. He once volunteered for a scout team, which there was nothing to scout since the front lines were now handled by other Marines but mostly the Army, but he was denied the chance.

McCoy was himself. If he wasn’t beating up on Ripley he was itching for some action, complaining about the lack of offensive, or yelling at Army Soldiers and “Marining them up”. At this moment, he was lying across from Frank next to Hank, catching some Zs. Frank didn’t even notice him when he finally came to, because he was listening to the radio.

“… pushing the Gilgathons back, while Zeta squad had a problem with removing stubborn refugees when a Lurker showed up. Luckily, they were able to ward off the Lurker before it became too hazardous. Our Navel Air Force buddies are keeping them back, as what appears to be a massive Gilgathon counter offensive charges St. Paulsboro, but the Thunderbirds are tearing them apart while they’re in the open without threat of retaliation. The kill-count for these Thunderbird pilots are numerous and unimaginable. In other news…”

Frank shut off his radio, listening to the sounds of the world.

“What’s wrong?” asked McCoy, but he already had an idea, he had felt it too.

Even over the radios, the music, the talking and banter from soldiers, they could both here the sounds of the fighting get more intense, and an eerie feel seemed to feel the air. Whistler had walked up, keeping his sniper rifle at the ready, almost aiming it around the perimeter as he entered the hole.

“What is it?” asked Frank, waiting for Whistler or McCoy to respond.

“The bird things,” Whistler said, almost quietly, “They’ve lowered their altitude, and I spotted one diving into an unknown spot of the city.”

“And where did you see that?” remarked Ripley, coming back from an argument with an Army Soldier.

“I climbed building,” said Whistler, “Next to the Anti-Air team. I watched them.”

“Hey,” said McCoy, slapping Hank’s shoulder, “Wake up and get ready to move, I don’t like this.”

“We finally goin’ ta retake this city once and for all?” asked Ripley, grabbing his rifle.

“No, I just have a bad feeling,” said McCoy, “Like when I was on Silver Nava V. We were ambushed by the Shagati Pirates in the Equador jungles.”

Ripley opened his mouth to say something back, but no one wanted to listen. Instead, they watched as two of the Gilgathon birds came streaming out of the sky, diving towards their position. Then an unearthly scream filled their ears, and they cuffed their ears and ducked.

Some men fired, others ran for their supplies, but no one was prepared for the beasts to swoop in and spit some sort of green liquid onto a munitions tent and cover two tanks parked next to each other. The creatures screamed away as the acid began to eat through the munitions tent and the armor on the tanks. Then, it hit the munitions in the tent and the tank shells and gas tank on the tanks and exploded. It ate away the armor down to the explosives so fast, everyone else thought it was explosive spit.

There was a break, while people scrambled about; but then there was a rumble, and firing could be heard by the North Perimeter. Frank looked up in time to see the street sink in, and Gilgathons began pouring out, firing blindly into the Park. One of the buildings fell apart as a Lurker surfaced, and a makeshift heavy machine gun turret placed on it’s back began firing sharp jagged metal projectiles (which acted as Gilgathon Bullets) into the soldiers of the camp. Screams and gunfire filled Frank’s ears as he hopped up and began grabbing his things. Hank did the same, but McCoy slapped them on their backs and began yelling orders.

“Leave them, fire your weapons. Fire, Fire!”

Whistler had already begun popping shots into Gilgathons with his sniper rifle, and Ripley had dived into the Fox hole when the Gilgathon fliers hit. McCoy grabbed his Battle Rifle and fired off into the crowd of Gilgathons that began swarming over the soldiers into the park. Then Frank heard the screams again, as the two Gilgathon flying behemoths swooped back down. Frank didn’t have time to react as he watched the Behemoths swoop down and spit their acid saliva onto tanks that began firing at the Gilgathons. Two MBTs exploded before anyone could react, and an LBT was left molded to the ground from a near-miss.

Frank looked, and could see the Gilgathon swarm getting steadily closer. He could clearly pick out the Drones, who were heavily clothed and fired rapidly at whatever seemed to be the biggest threat at the time. Warglers were intermingled in the group, and they hopped into Fox holes and ripped the soldier inside to pieces with their long, sharp claws and teeth. Swarmers, the original Gilgathon Flying unit, who looked like large insects with green exoskeletons, filled the skies. Mostly, Swarmers attacked in a “Swarm” (the equivalent to the ground troops “Pack” which was equivalent to the human Squad) and used their sharp claws and talons to rip and scratch at their targets, but some Swarmers in the sky held Grinders, the Gilgathon Pistol (Which, like the Shredder, was incredibly inaccurate. Since it was single shot, the Grinder was used at close range, where it got its name for having two chainsaw like movable bayonets) and stayed back, shooting down on their targets. The Lurker had not yet entered the Park, allowing the machine gun turret to rip apart its enemies from afar. Yet, movement could be heard in the caverns from the first attack in the Park, as surely Gilgathons made their way from under there, catching the guard soldier completely by surprise.

Frank watched all this in fear, and was almost relieved when the command crackled over the com “Fall back, all units fall back! This is Colonel Gregs, Fall back. All Units in the St. Paulsboro fighting area fall back, Fall Back!”

With that, Ripley and Whistler turned and darted out of the Fox hole and began sprinting backwards towards no where in particular. Frank was quick to follow, with Hank and Master Sergeant McCoy at his side. Other soldiers were doing the same thing, doing all they could to get out of there. Not many jeeps seemed to have made it out of the fighting, and the tanks were slow moving as they retreated. Some soldier stayed behind, keeping the enemy back, and the tanks helped them and refused to stop firing at targets.

“Over there,” shouted McCoy and he pointed at the Army MAT in the street at the edge of the Park.

A man, probably the driver, tried to wave over troops. Many continued to run into the buildings and streets, but some began making their way onto it. It was a large, around three story tall (vehicle story, two building stories tall) Mass Armed Transport, with the third story being the drivers cabin and the next-door heavy duel Gatling Gun Turret. It had two doors on either end that lowered or rose like a castle’s bridge. On the sides were Troop Holes, which were windows soldiers inside could open and see out of, or fire out of. The second story was open, and consisted only of catwalks and cranes that would normally hold extra troops or light vehicles, like the reconnaissance bike it had now, while the heavier vehicles would be on the bottom, making the MAT two Humvees wide, 1 MBT length, and it barely fit down the city streets.

McCoy made a B line for it, as did the others, and they ran onto the MAT. The driver ran up to the second story, and overlooked the troops coming aboard. Then he spotted the Gilgathons as they got closer. He ordered the back door, the only one open, to close. McCoy repeatedly shouted the order, even while the door slowly rose up. Some soldier outside climbed up, and others screamed as they beat on the MATs side, but after a bit they took off on foot. The MAT roared to life a little after the driver disappeared to the cabin, and shortly after the door slammed closed.

The roar of the duel Gatling guns could be heard outside, and the screech of Gilgathon flier in the sky. The Screech turned into a squeal as a giant thud was heard against the roof of the MAT. More Gilgathon moans were heard as the Gatling gun continued firing without stop.

“Let’s go forward!” yelled McCoy to no one in particular as the MAT jumped slightly, then rolled forward.

They were rolling along a little bit, listening to the Gatling gun fire and the pings of bullets against the MAT. Someone suggested opening the Troop Holes, so they could fire back at their enemy. The Troop Holes someone hit a button, and all the Troop Holes on the Lower Left side opened with a hiss. Immediately a Swarmer claw reached in and grabbed a man’s face, pulling his head through the Troop Hole. There was a yell of exclamation from the Army Troops around him, as they fought to keep him in the MAT, and some fired out onto the attack. There was a terrible wet sound, and the man was pulled back in. His head was missing, and the soldiers that pulled him back in began to yell in agony. Another Swarmer managed to get a shot through, wounding a man. Another shot came through, missed a bunch of soldiers, and hit Ripley in the right shoulder.

Ripley burst out in a yell, and then just grabbed at his shoulder.

“You all right?” asked McCoy.

“Only a flesh wound,” Ripley exclaimed.

“Shut those damn holes!” yelled out McCoy.

Many other shouts for the Holes to be shut were heard, and the troops closest to them fired out onto unseen enemies, then the Troop Holes were sealed shut again. Another moment, it went dark again. Someone switched on the few bits of florescent lights there were inside the MAT, but it was still dark. For the most part, it was quiet. They listened to the rumble of the Gatling gun turret and the pings of bullets on the MAT. Moans and some sobs could be heard from troops around the room, some others murmured or prayed.

Then the screech was heard again, and then the rumble of the Gatling gun stopped. The eerie silence without the rumble seemed to take away the soldiers last hope. A few more splats were heard, and they knew… the MAT had been hit.

The back part of the roof began to be eaten away, and someone from the second story yelled “The Turret’s gone! And the Cabin, the drivers been hit!” At that point, the MAT ran into a building, and the force nearly jerked Frank off his feet. Then, the MAT stopped, dead in the water.

“Open that door!” yelled McCoy, pointing towards the front door.

Someone hit the magic button and the door dropped like a rock, taking out a bit of building with it. It seemed like, immediately, the light was not the only thing that flooded in. The soldiers first out fired their assault rifles, but were pelted with bullets and fell. Frank ran out, firing at the Swarmers, but mainly he sprinted. As he exited, he noticed a Black Hawk spiraling out of control as it disappeared behind some buildings, a trail of smoke following it.

As they ran out of the MAT, some explosions were heard as the latches of the back door were blown away. The door crashed down, squishing some Warglers and Drones with it, but many Drones waited and fired into the MAT, taking those who hadn’t yet made it out. Frank ran, firing at whatever, barely bothering to aim. Up ahead they saw a Humvee, it was parked and the gunner fired the machine gun turret at the Swarmers around it.

While they were running up to it, a distinct crack was heard, and Whistler was hit in the back of the head by a sniper round. Frank called out to him, but Whistler was dead before he knew it. McCoy urged Frank on, and they continued running towards the Humvee. Another crack claimed the life of an Army soldier running next to them before they reached the Humvee.

“Let’s go, marines, double time!” yelled McCoy, as he opened the door and began firing at Gilgathons.

Ripley climbed in first, then Hank. When they were seated, another soldier inside exclaimed “All right, marines!” before the gunner’s body shook, and the gun stopped firing. Hank pulled the dead body in and took his place at the turret. Frank climbed in, followed closely by McCoy’s head.

“Who’s driving this damn thing?” asked McCoy.

“Our Sergeant, who went to help one of our fallen squad mates, sir,” said the man in the passenger’s seat.

“And where the hell is that?” asked McCoy.

“Back there,” said the Army soldier in the back, pointing towards where the Gilgathons came ever steady forward.

Then a crackle on the Humvee radio was heard and an older man’s voice was heard yelling, “Wellington! We’re pinned down, and Backser’s gone. Listen, I’m… I’m staying behind. Me and a few other guys decided to hold them back. You need to go, go now! Hurry!”

Then the radio went dead.

“I can’t drive this that well,” exclaimed the soldier in the front seat.

“I’ll drive,” yelled McCoy, as he sprinted around to the driver’s side and got inside, “Hold on to yer butts!”

With that, he slammed on the gas and took off down the road. Hank fired at the Gilgathons, yelling the whole way down, and Frank sat back, and belted himself in. The Humvee screeched down the road, leaving the Gilgathons in the dust. Over the radio the Colonel’s voice could be heard, yelling about the fall of St. Paulsboro, and how all troops need to get as far away from it as possible. Then the Captain of the Hybrid, a Navel Air Force LEW cruiser overhead the city, got on the radio.

“Attention, all LEW Marines and Army Soldiers and personnel. St. Paulsboro is lost, and my orders are not to allow the Gilgathons to keep it. I’m enforcing my power to initiate a Mark Eight on St. Paulsboro in T minus 35, 21 seconds. All troops need to get as far away from St. Paulsboro as possible, regroup and prepare to retake the wreckage.”

“What does that mean?” asked the soldier in the back.

“It means,” said McCoy, “We want to get the hell away from here before the heavens open up and God blow this place to hell like Sadden or Gomorra.”

Ruben read the readout that the eyepiece on his helmet gave him about his team members. Clara, Uri, and Leroy’s vital signs appeared on them. Leroy’s heart rate was going faster then normal, Clara was normal, and it looked as if Uri was sleeping. He wouldn’t be surprised if Uri slept through an entire battle, that’s how he used to joke. Now, of course, he knew battle was nothing to joke about.

He heard the steps before Clara did, but it was Clara who acted first. She rose from where she sat on an old chair and she walked to the window of the second story building in which they waited and looked out on the street below. Ruben rose and joined her, looking out.

Ruben first checked on Lima’s position, Captain Malcolm’s team, on the first floor of the destroyed building across the street. Karen had been hiding in the ruble with a sniper rifle. She stood, and waved her rifle at Clara, showing that it was a friendly. Ruben looked down the road, and saw two Hand of God soldiers sprinting down the street, one with a radio antenna on his back, and they lugged equipment along. It must have been the broadcasting team sent to intercept LEW communications.

“What’s up, lads,” yelled Felix from his position.

“We need to go!” yelled one of the men, “We need to go now!”

As the first man talked, the man with the antenna began broadcasting to all Hand of God soldiers, basically a simple message of retreat and getting out of the city.

“What’s wrong? Gilgathons?” asked Captain Malcolm.

“Lou… their leavin’… getting the hell out of the city… Gilgathons everywhere… we need to go!” yelled the soldier, winded from his sprint.

They didn’t stop, either, but kept running right past them.

“Why? What’s going on!” yelled Felix.

“I don’t know, but in five minutes we’re not gonna want to be here!” yelled the man over his shoulder.

“Come on,” said Clara, “We’re leaving.”

“What?” exclaimed Ruben, “We’re just gonna back out because the Gilgathons actually put up a little bit of a fight and two radiomen got spooked?”

“If the LEW’s backing down then I’m not waiting around to see why,” said Clara, “There hasn’t been a refugee sighting since that last batch set off yesterday, technically we shouldn’t even be here. Wake up, Uri!”

She tossed a rucksack at Uri, waking him up immediately. Leroy was already packed and heading down the stairs to meet Malcolm’s team. Uri sleepily got up and stretched as he tried to ask questions, but no one listened as Clara grabbed her sniper and Ruben grabbed his bag.

They met up with Malcolm’s group in the street and began running towards the main Hand of God HQ in the city. As they approached, the sounds of battle could be heard off in the opposite direction, and some sort of strange screeching sound was heard. Smoke could be seen from the inner city, and the LEW’s artillery fire had almost doubled in a short time. Ruben was beginning to worry that maybe the LEW was in trouble, and soon they would be too.

They saw the Gas Station, things were fueling up, many LRVs were already roaring away from the city, but there was still a good amount refueling and waiting for others. Many other soldiers began following the warnings of the two soldiers and were trying to get onto LRVs or whatever else would get them out of there. Ruben ran ahead of the others to try and reserve a Transport LRV so they could leave, and he easily outran the others.

He heard it, an earsplitting screech from the sky. Other soldiers around them began screaming and yelling, and Ruben saw a few people bring their rifles to the firing position. Ruben looked up in time to see the massive Gilgathon bird-like creature come diving out of the sky onto his position. Before it crashed, it pulled up and spat a large amount of greenish liquid at the Gas Station. Almost as soon as the liquid hit the station, the gas ignited, and the Gas Station exploded. Ruben was un-lucky enough to be by it at this time, and felt the heat and fire overwhelm him as he was lifted off his feet and he flew through the sky. He heard his name called out, but it was overlooked as he felt his body crash through a wall of a building and land somewhere inside.

He lay still for a little bit, feeling the pain of his body. Everything seemed to slow down, even the flames of the building he appeared to be in. His body felt so broken, yet he could still move. He lay still, listening to the yells and screams of soldiers outside, and gunfire from an array of weapons. He heard some footsteps, but he didn’t pay attention to them until Clara’s body suddenly appeared over him, feeling his helmet and chest, Uri stood behind her.

“Ruben? Ruben?” cried Uri.

“Shut up, Uri, he’s alive” said Clara, “Dazed, shell shocked.”

They’re voices seemed so different to Ruben, so deep… hard to understand. He realized that although he lay on the ground they appeared to wobble. Ruben felt his body lift up, and he felt his bodyweight suddenly forced on his legs. Surprisingly, his legs held, and he shook his head and began to follow Clara out of the building.

As Clara led the way out, she said, “Come on, before those things come back.”

“DID kill everyone else,” said Leroy, “That was amazing, but everyone close to you was blown clean away.”

Ruben’s sight seemed to settle and the reality of everything hit him.

“W-what happened?” asked Ruben, “Where am I?”

“You’re leaving a convenience store,” answered Leroy, “One of which you just gave a new door to. You were blown across the street and clean through a building’s wall.”

Ruben noticed the hole as they stepped through it onto the street. Three pillars of fire spat up into the sky from where the Gas Station had been prior to the creature’s attack. Two carcasses of AAVs were all that existed next to the Gas Station, everything else destroyed or blown farther away. Soldiers rushed about from one place to another, but mainly they ran for LRVs.

Ruben shook off some more of the Shell Shock, and allowed himself to be helped down the street to where the last group of LRVs waited. Malcolm was waiting with a near full Transport LRV, and he waved as they got closer. Arnold and Suray stood outside, firing at unknown enemies in the sky.

“Let’s go,” said Malcolm, “Before-”

He was interrupted by another blood chilling screech; Ruben looked up into the sky and saw the creature diving again, in his direction.

“Man, does that thing hate you, boy,” said Malcolm as he lifted Ruben up into the Transport LRV.

The creature again spat its slimy liquid, but it hit another Transport further down the street. The LRV began to burn and sizzle, and its armor coverings were eaten away.

“Acid?” yelled Leroy, “But I though it-”

When the acid hit the Gas Tanks, the LRV exploded. Shrapnel flew all over the place. Clara and Leroy dived to the ground, and Uri ducked Ruben’s head into the LRV. A wet mix of a splat and a squish was heard, and then the sound of fire and gunfire. When Ruben looked up, he saw that the shrapnel had sunk into many of the soldiers, killing some.

“Dang, Arnold, Suray!” yelled Clara, as she ran over and checked where they lay.

Suray had taken a piece of Shrapnel in the forehead, killing him instantly, Arnold yelled, as a piece of burning metal protruded from his leg. Clara seized the piece and yanked out the piece of shrapnel, causing Arnold to howl with pain, then she picked him up and put him onto the LRV, then she and Malcolm climbed into it.

“Tell the Rat to move!” yelled Malcolm.

“Don’t ‘ave ter tell me toice!” yelled the driver and he slammed on the accelerator.

The Transport lurched forward, and in no time they could see the city, burning behind them. Ruben looked out at the city, seeing its glorified structures burning or falling over. The Flying beasts could be seen diving in and out of the city, but they had moved more towards the south, where the LEW was situated. There, LEW anti aircraft fire could be seen ripping away at the creatures, many falling dead or diving only to be ripped apart.

Ruben noticed the sheer speed of the Transport LRV as they were out of the city far faster then when they had entered, even though the attack LRVs were close to twice as fast. As they left the city, Ruben noticed that the fighting between the LEW and Gilgathons had been taken out of the city, and now took place between some remaining of the Flyers and troops retreating from the city. Ruben didn’t understand it.

Then, the unthinkable. He didn’t even hear the shot from the ship. A projectile from the LEW ship hovering over Silver Nava IV closest to St Paulsboro crashed right into the middle of the city. Soon after, the city engulfed in light. A giant mushroom cloud rose from the center, and Ruben could see the buildings disappear under its majestic wake. The sound of the explosion shook the bones of every soldier in the LRV, and even the chassis of the LRV itself. Some swears and comments of awe came from the soldiers, and Ruben just shook his head.

“Christ,” mumbled Felix, “They nuked it… they just nuked the God forsaken place. They weren’t even going to warn us!”

Ruben saw it before anyone else did, and obviously before anyone else could think of it. A wave of dirt heading towards them, going easily four times as fast as the LRV. He braced himself, which got the attention of Malcolm, who noticed the wave right before it hit.

“Hang on,” yelled Malcolm, “This is gonna be a bumpy ride!”

The wave hit like a baseball bat on Ruben’s already weakened chest. He felt himself thrown back onto the bodies of those farther into the LRV but hardly noticed. The back of the LRV rose into the air as some soldier yelled and cried out, but it didn’t matter as the roof slammed into the dirt, and the LRV flipped a few times, rattling up the soldiers inside, and then tilted over on its side and began to roll for several meters before coming to a slow, and blessed, rest in the dirt. All were silent for a few moments, waiting, listening in the dark.

Ruben sat, his eyes closed, thinking… rerunning through the days events in his mind. Before he lost consciousness one last thought ran through his mind: What will they think when they find out I probably ruined their new suit of armor?

Finally, Ruben walked through the oak doors leading into the General’s Staff room, Clara and Malcolm followed behind him. Malcolm tried to wipe the remaining debris of him, but Clara and Ruben made no such attempt. General Swahili was standing, overlooking three visual screens at the end of a makeshift conference table. Major Generals Woodcock and “Goliath” Gordon sat in two chairs closest to Swahili. Woodcock sat, wearing an officer’s battle gear, and his Walrus Mustache began to show pure white with age. Gordon wore the closest thing to officer’s battle gear for a man his size, and his hair was neatly combed and trimmed.

“We’re sorry, we had no idea,” said Swahili, “We just found news of the Gilgathon attack against you when we saw the blast. As it turns out, the Gilgathons had a heavy offensive, and pushed the LEW back hard. LEW forces were told to just leave the city, and that command ship blew the whole city off the map, and all those cursed beasts with it!”

“Yeah, and they almost took out US with it,” stated Malcolm, “If we would’ve waited for orders we would be nothing right now.”

“Why were we not killed from the radiation?” asked Clara.

“Please, Captain Styx,” bellowed Gordon, his deep voice nearly shaking the room, “That was a tactical nuke, minimal radiation. The LEW would not risk a traditional nuclear strike on their own city, no matter how much power is needed. The LEW wanted a swift victory, although I think this whole situation was far from it. They have severely crippled the Gilgathon forces in this area, but we all know what mere victories mean against the Gilgathons.”

Ruben nodded, then turned to Swahili saying, “Now that our operations in St. Paulsboro have ceased to exist, shouldn’t we start looking into a solution to our Gilgathon problem? I think we could penetrate-”

“Onyx, listen up,” said Swahili sharply, cutting Ruben off.

General Swahili moved aside, allowing the third TV screen to show. On it showed the coastline off somewhere on Silver Nava IV. LEW ships fired at the coastline, while a large citadel rose from the waves. When it was finished, a massive, alien structure had been erected from the sea, it stood tall against the horizon. The ship had moved back, and even so the camera man could not get the whole thing in one shot. Ruben shook his head, looking at it in awe.

“What… is it?” asked Clara.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” asked Woodcock.

“It’s the only reason you made it here,” said Swahili, “Unchecked. You’re special, but not that special.”

Ruben allowed the words to slide off him as he walked closer to the screen.

“Elvidion?” he whispered to no one in particular.

“It rose approximately two hours ago, an hour before St. Paulsboro ignited,” said Swahili, “Increased Gilgathon activity made the LEW also have to abandon the coastal city of Dockmith, but not entirely. They were planning a coastal “invasion” of the city along with a renewed offensive when a few miles north of it this appeared. Since then, the LEW have been at battle with some sort of sea bearing Gilgathon threat, along with renewed Gilgathon resistance in any area even in sight of the tower. It’s definably alien, according to the LEW reports it’s different then “Markup 4”, which we presume is the architecture of the alien facilities at Warswick. That could be a clue or mean nothing at all, but we need to be careful. Other LEW notes say it having massive defensive power, something about acid turrets, and from some sort of doors along the sides is the main source of Gilgathon reinforcements on the planet.”

“The Queen,” said Ruben and Clara together.

“Do I see a plan brewing?” said Woodcock, smiling slightly.

Ruben walked yet closer to the screen, staring at the structure. He shook his head, thinking.

“Can you get me to it?” he asked, suddenly.

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Gordon, as he pressed a button on the table, causing another screen to light up, showing Dockmith and the relative distance to the tower.

“We have a small strike team waiting in Dockmith, they have commandeered a dock their and their waiting with boats. You will sneak in, and meet up with our ‘Inside Agents’ and then proceed to meet up with the boat crew.”

“We don’t know,” Swahili answered swiftly, “but I pray that they are watching, and they are planning something. The Gilgathons are evolving, just like you said the Elvidion said they would. This… structure, this citadel thing… it’s only the beginning. Their flying creatures attacking, Drones upgrading? Now there’s talk over LEW waves saying that there’s some sort of blimp-like troop carrying creature that has a tough carapace with potential of vacuum space travel! What should we expect, what should we prepare for?”

“Hopefully we won’t half to,” said Ruben, “We’ll kill the Queen, just like last time, and soon the Gilgathons will just… be killed off.”

“If only it was that easy,” said Gordon.

“In my 18 years of service, I know it’s never that easy,” said Woodcock.

“Alright,” said Clara, finally, “We head to Dockmith, meet up with your mystery agents, head to the boats, then what? The boats just bring us up to the tower?”

“That’s where the plan ends,” said Gordon, “We don’t know the best route, so we’ll leave it up to you. The hope is the boats will bring you up to the tower, and hopefully you’ll get inside.”

“Hopefully,” said Ruben, as he turned around and walked back next to Clara and Malcolm, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“If anyone can find a way,” said Swahili, “It’s you.”

“So, you mean, if there’s anyone who can survive a suicide mission twice, it’ll be me?” answered Ruben.

“Do you not want to do it?” asked Swahili.

“No, General, I… I want to go,” said Ruben, realizing he was beaten at his own game.

Ruben saluted, following the examples of Clara and Malcolm, and then he turned around and followed the others out. General Swahili sat, and he sighed, holding his head in his hands.

“Kids,” he whispered into the air.

“Were you so different, Raja?” asked Woodcock.

“The boy has so much on his shoulders at such a young age,” continued Swahili, “And he wants to know who he is, what he is, so badly.”

“We should tell him,” said Woodcock.

General Swahili, sighed again, and then turned to Gordon.

“What would you do, Goliath?” he said, “What would you do in Jack’s stead?”

Gordon began fingering his scraggly beard that began to develop on his chin. After thinking for a long, hard while, he stood up, almost touching the ceiling, and began heading out of the room.

“Jack didn’t want the boy to know, but not forever he didn’t. Jack would have told him when he felt Ruben was mature enough to hear.”

“And now what?” said Woodcock, “I am soon reaching the age of becoming an Elder. Then I shall be stuck at home, talking with Isabella and Ronald. What fun will that be?”

Woodcock also rose, and began following Gordon out.

“You must tell him, you must show him, or you must help him find out,” answered Gordon, finally, “Jack would want Ruben to know when he needed to, but in his disappearance Jack would want Ruben to know.”

Swahili, driven in thought, was then left alone with those words. He thought for a long time, thinking of a decision, a choice. After much meditation, he rose from his seat and left the room.

You managed to get me to read all of the thus far posted chapters of Cleansing Silver Nava IV in a less-than 12 hour period. I sincerely congratulate you at being able to keep a reader's attention so well.

The action seems even more addictive than that of Warswick's. I don't know how long the actual timespan between you starting Warswick up until now would be, but you've certainly grown as a writer since Warswick. But of course writing page after page like you do would definitely result in writing growth. Almost needless to say, I've quickly become a fan of your writing.

The number of typos in Silver Nava IV has also decreased compared with Warswick. However, I'll just point out a few mistakes now.

You seem to confuse “quiet” with “quite” fairly often, though more often in Warswick I'll admit.

Quote:

“We have a small strike team waiting in Dockmith, they have commandeered a dock their and their waiting with boats.

I'm pretty sure the first “their” should have been a “there” and the second a “they're”.

Also, more of a continuous Warswick typo but “dessert” = stuff like ice cream, “desert” = the hot, sandy environment.

Typos aside, the complicated plot keeps me hooked thoroughly. I like that you're describing emotions more now, as the battlefield can be quite a cruel place. However, in the first chapter when Ruben seemed to be having a flashback about how the LEW had captured him as a prisoner of war, I was slightly puzzled by a part of it.

Quote:

Ruben couldn’t help but smile a bit. It was over, the nightmare was over. They had done it. They had saved Warswick. They had stopped the Gilgathons. They had WON.

I mean, thought Ruben, what else could go wrong?

Ruben's dad just died, and he knows it, and yet he's smiling? That just seems very unbelievable to me. Sure, they just killed the Gilgathon queen, but Ruben's dad killed himself to do it, so the weight of the situation doesn't seem like it would make Ruben smile

Overall, Cleansing Silver Nava IV has quite a few less “awkward” moments of writing than Warswick, and considerably less typos to boot. The action is even more intense and your growth as a writer is evident. I will continue to enjoy reading this as it's updated and wouldn't be surprised to see if this one gets published, especially if Warswick does. Your work is so near-professional (minus the typos) that I'm sure simple revisions (and editing) will make it shine brightly. Good luck and have fun writing

Yes, thank you. many of the things you're saying have been fixed/working on being fixed. Going through Warswick has been interesting. Everything from adding description in parts to rewording and rephrasing others. But my advisor has told me that As the book Warswick went on, there was less and elss to add. the begining of Warswick was, by far, the roughest parts. BTW posted on here, for both Warswick and the earlier parts of this, are the earliest copies of them. I barely edited them if at all.

Thank you for your notes, I'll be sure to keep a tilted eye on them. And The ending of Warswick was as corny as it gets, there will be some serious REWrights. 1) to end Warswick with no cliffhanger or anything, in case the second doesn't get published. And 2) because I hate the ending as-is. It hurt me to write it.

I'll be sure to post more soon. For both books are done. Thanks for reading, btw. Silver nava IV is by far superior to Warswick in that there's bigger fights, you get bigger insight into L.E.W. and Elvidion worlds, and that the massiver scale is just HUGE!

Ruben shook his head as he entered the Elevator with Clara and Malcolm right on his heels. He clenched his fists and turned, meeting the glare of Clara’s eyes.

“What? I just can’t win with that guy!” said Ruben, “Two years later and he still hates me.”

“Ruben, you know what, maybe it’s not him with the issue,” said Clara, rolling her eyes and turning around.

“And that’s supposed to mean?” asked Ruben.

“God, Ruben…” sighed Clara then she turned and said, “Two years of torment and Swahili puts his hole reputation on the line, as well as many men as he lost on, as you say, the ‘suicide mission’ to rescue your butt just to make up for the mission! Getting you back was his way of trying to say sorry to you, as well make himself feel better. Do you know how many people in the council rejected the idea of a rescue mission against a L.E.W. prison vessel? Also, he listened and relied on McCoy’s messages that they would help us from the INSIDE! Now let’s leave Swahili for a moment and say how much it must have hurt McCoy, Mr. ‘Patriotic’, to go against all that he lives to serve!”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ruben, “But you don’t see him in any fighting! He isn’t joining us; he isn’t making an extra effort to help. Instead, he gives me a shiny new set of armor and says ‘Good Luck’ and sends me on another suicide mission.”

“Swahili is involved with a lot of fighting and has been in many-a-battle while you were gone.”

“Please,” interrupted Malcolm, “Can we rise?”

Clara was closest to the button, and she typed in a code and the elevator door shut and began to rise.

“Besides, Ruben, what do you want him to do? A large force? Hundreds could die. Face it; you’re the absolute best person to send. And YOU’RE not the only one going. I’m going out of free will, Uri and Leroy will probably go, too.”

“My team is already preparing to leave with you,” said Malcolm.

“Why, though? I know I’m the best man, but why? I know… it’s because I’m not a man. It’s because I’m something else, right? This… Raptor… thing. What is it anyway? I know I’m LEW, I’m not stupid, and I fought one of these before, one like me. So? What am I?”

Clara sighed and blushed, turning away from Ruben. Malcolm stiffened, and stared straight ahead. Ruben shook his head and glared at the two of them, he was used to this response to him asking this question, but this time he wasn’t going to take “No” as an answer.

“Ruben, I don’t know, Ok?” said Clara, “Listen, you’re dad and the council and a few others were all those who knew the most, but not everybody knows. The LEW Raptors… I don’t know… they’re something… not right. Some sort of… super soldier.”

“Like a phantom?” asked Ruben.

“No…” said Clara, as the elevator began to slow, “They’re… different.”

Soon the elevator stopped, and the door opened, revealing a large, open motor pool. There were tons of soldiers everywhere, many did drills or marched from area to area. Many LRVs sat parked on either side of a large runway-like road, and many LRVs road around, in and out of parking spaces. There were landing pads that much resembled the ones Ruben and the others had entered on the Junker could be spotted, all held some sort of Junker or ancient helicopter, like Hueys or Chinooks. Other areas were obviously where ships should have been, instead large steel pillars jutted up into a tunnel going towards the surface. AAVs could also be seen scattered around.

Ruben remembered this place; they were here before they were sent to St. Paulsboro. It was the main dispatch HQ on Silver Nava IV, where almost all the Hand of God soldiers came to before deployment. Such a place would never exist in normal times, but the Hand of God had momentarily ceased fighting with the LEW in all human space for peace talks, which Swahili and many other council members would be attending soon, so they feared no attack from LEW forces.

As Ruben began walking down the small flight of stairs onto the main “Deck” of the Dispatch HQ, other soldiers began lining up and staring, most stopped what they were doing completely to watch. Ruben began to notice, and he, Clara, and Malcolm stopped in the middle of a “Pad” and stared back at their onlookers. Before Ruben could say anything, a Lieutenant form the crowd walked up, and took off his hat.

“S-sergeant Onyx?” he began, “I have been chosen, on behalf of all the Soldiers of the Hand of God, especially the originals...”

“And on behalf of the Desert Rats!” yelled a man from the crowd, who turned out to be Colonel Richardson of the Desert Rat Brigade (the branch of the Hand of God where the daredevil drivers and specialty transporters were placed. “Desert Rats”).

“…To,” continued the man, “To… Apologize for our attitude towards you. Your… your father always wanted a normal life for you… it… it wasn’t right for us to judge you on them. You were raised a Hand of God Soldier, and you’re a spitting image of a Hand of God soldier if there ever was one.”

With that, he snapped a sharp salute, and lowered it swiftly. At that sight, all the soldiers who had been watching began to clap and cheer, calling out words of encouragement and pleading for forgiveness. Ruben looked around, and then smiled. Many of these men he had known, many he did not, but the same people who had ridiculed him and put him down all his life now cheered for him.

Clara was the first to shove Ruben onward, yelling, “Toldja, you’re a hero, Ruben. Like your father, you mean a lot to these people, and you’re the only person who can help get them home alive.”

As they fought through the crowd, they approached a Junker, and Ruben recognized it as the very same Junker that brought him to Silver Nava IV. Before he could voice his discovery, a man jumped out of the doorway, and tipped a cap at Clara.

“Lass,” Yorik’s voice rang.

“Yorik, are you ready to go?”

“As ready as ya can be on your way to St. Peter, yeah? Push the magic button and we’re off to save this world!” replied Yorik with glee.

“Good,” said Ruben, “Where are the others?”

“Present” yelled Dex from inside the ship, and he climbed out to talk to the others.

“Dex? You’re coming with us?” exclaimed Clara in surprise, “Or will you stay on the ship?”

“No, no,” assured Dex, “I intend to come with you this time. No longer will I sit back and hear the events through a radio, hopeless. Me and my handy-dandy notebook computer are going along. Besides, you’ll need me to have any idea of what’s in there. You see, I’ve been studying…”

“No time,” said Ruben, “The clock’s ticking; we need to be at that tower. Let’s go, get the others.”

“Woah, woah, wooooah!” said Yorik, stopping Ruben from entering the ship with his hand, “Now, we’ll get your wee friends in a minute, but what are you gonna fight hordes and packs of Gilgathons with? Your sidearm? Or maybe you’ll just use the rest of your Assault Rifle Ammo?”

“What are you saying?” asked Ruben, intrigued slightly.

Yorik waved his hand towards a stand nearby, where an armory was situated. Ruben nodded at Clara, who nodded at Malcolm, who nodded back at Ruben, who walked towards the stand. The man at the stand quickly rose to his feet and straightened his bandana.

“Howdy, what can I do you fer, Sergeant Onyx?” said the man, “Boss says you ‘n’ your group has the complete armory at your pleasure, sir.”

Ruben couldn’t help but smile now, “What do you have that will open a door that’s closed?”

The man in the armory smiled, and he pressed a button. The back door behind him opened and he left, returning after a while with a couple tubular weapons and belts of rocket-like ammo.

“This, sir, is our brand new rocket launcher, specially H. O. God made. It has less of a range then ther LEW M7-K8 Rocket Launcher, but it packs a wallop and a half. It’ll open those stubborn doors.”

Ruben nodded slightly, turning to Clara.

Clara quickly grabbed a rocket launcher, as she barked out a list, “We’ll need ammo, lots, for everything. We want ARs, give us four BRs, if you got them give us two M-48s and I want the most high-tech and well accessorized SR you got, STAT! We’re also gonna need ‘nades…”

Ruben, Yorik, and Malcolm began grabbing the guns and ammo as the man began piling them on the counter, and they walked them all back to the on-board armory on Yorik’s Junker.

Another column of a LEW armored battalion roared underneath the Junker as they cruised across the sky. Ruben hoped that none of them would decide to shoot them down, because the Junker seemed to provide no sense of security as they flew towards Dockmith. He felt butterflies fluttering inside his stomach, but Ruben knew he really didn’t have a choice, he couldn’t back down now.

Ruben smiled, he remembered this feeling… for some reason it felt good… reminded him of his first mission… the last time he was with his father… the mission that permanently changed his life.

“Right, we’re nearing Dockmith,” said Yorik over the intercom, “Dang… this place is some sort of hell hole.”

“Bring it up on screen,” said Clara, and their heads turned to watch a flat screen on one end of the cabin.
The screen cracked on, showing a poorly mounted camera view. Ahead, Ruben could clearly see the shoreline and smoke rising from a large city. The buildings seemed odd, but Ruben could clearly see most of them damaged.

LEW Troops could be seen entering the city, and some LEW troop movement could be seen on the other side of the city. The Tower loomed in the distance, smoke searing from the top, as well as many openings in its side. The LEW’s massive Naval Marine Fleet towered over the vastness of the ocean. Large Battleships fired upon the tower, and mini Assault Cruisers circled the Battleships, providing whatever aid they could. Ruben could squint and see some of the ships were damaged; one Battleship which was clearly in the middle of some sort of fight was sinking.

“Wow,” said Felix, “I remember when this city first began fishin’ Navite IV Tuna.”

“That stuff’s a joke!” yelled Yorik over the PA, “There’s nothing like an Earth Tuna!”

“I don’t know, their Navite Peliodon Fish aren’t so bad,” said a Hand of God Soldier by the name of Pyre, “You don’t see nearly any Armored Fish on Earth anymore.”

“Snap out of it, maggots!” barked Malcolm, lowering his voice slightly to get a more demanding tone, “We hit Dockmith soon, and this is the plan. We land on the intersection of Mog and Rye Streets. We’ll make our way diagonal, through the wreckage of the buildings, till we get to the Gold Nava Embassy.”

“Gold Nava has an embassy here?” asked Pyre.

“Embassies were scattered in hopes a coordinated rebel attack couldn’t take them all in one swift capture of a city,” answered Dex.

“Our ‘contacts’ will meet us there,” finished Malcolm.

“What about the LEW?” asked Leroy, “Will I need to add a few extra clips into the armor of a few soldiers?”

“That will absolutely not be happening!” barked Malcolm.

“With the peace talks taking place and a mutual cease fire in affect, shooting at them would be like killing all of us,” said Clara, “Don’t make me have to shoot you.”

“What about Gilgathons?” asked Karen.

“If Gilgathons become a problem, we’ll deal with them,” concluded Malcolm, “Besides, if the LEW can’t handle them, then we have no hope either. We’ll be out of there so fast; Gilgathons in Dockmith won’t hinder us.”

Ruben stood, and walked towards the door, grabbing a rocket launcher as he passed by a small gun rack. He strung it with his other weapons on his back and cocked a round into his Battle Rifle. When he reached the door, he pressed a button and it slipped opening, showing how close they were to the city. They were somewhere mid-city and they began to descend towards a group of buildings that had been pummeled by heavy gun fire. The Junker circled the area once, and began to lower into the buildings. It barely fit, but the damage in the buildings provided the needed room for them to lower.

Instead of landing on the street, like Ruben had predicted, the Junker levitated by the second story of one of the buildings. An artillery blast had taken the majority of the building’s wall off, and some of its floor; but it provided a good landing platform.

Ruben jumped from the Junker into the building, and he swept the area with his Battle Rifle. He heard the grunts and landing of several others behind him, and Malcolm urging the others from the Junker. After the last person had landed, he heard the Junker’s main engines flare as they rose and the door slid shut.

“I’ll await the team not joinin’ you at the outskirts,” said Yorik over the radio, “Then we’ll await ta pick you up when your… mission is completed.”

“Thanks, Yorik,” said Clara.

“Ok, we’re right where we need to be,” said Dex, as he straitened his glasses.

“Good, let’s head off through this building,” said Malcolm, and he led Felix, Karen, and Pyre towards a door at the other end of the open area that was once several separate rooms.

As Ruben began to follow, but Clara held him back. They watched as Dex’s heavy breathing filled the room and he looked around, his face flushed.

“Dex, are you alright?” asked Clara, “You gonna be ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s just been a while since I’ve been in the field, you know?” commented Dex.

“You can’t hinder us,” said Ruben.

“Then go, Ruben,” commented Clara, “We need to stay together to survive, and although it was a mistake bringing Dex, we need him at the top of his game.”

“No,” commented Ruben, “We’ll go together, but we have to go, Malcolm’s way ahead of us already.”

“Alright,” said Dex, “Ruben’s right, we need to go.”

With that, Uri and Leroy headed towards the door with Ruben right on their heels. After traversing the debris filled room, Ruben was the first one to enter the doorway. There was a long, debris filled hallway, in some areas rooms could be seen, or entire walls blow out.

Ruben was first to slowly walk down the hallway, he searched around, Malcolm and his team were no where to be seen. Ruben swept the hallway constantly with his Battle Rifle. Leroy was behind him, leisurely strolling, looking at the walls. Uri walks almost at the ready, trying to copy Ruben. Clara walked next to Dex, who slung his Assault Rifle awkwardly and typed on his personal laptop.

“Ok… Malcolm seems to have taken a different route… but we should meet up on the other end,” said Dex.

Before he ended it, they came up to a whole in the wall on their right side, which opened up to the inside of the building, some sort of great hall. Debris and a few dead bodies could be seen down below, and the flashlights of Malcolm’s team as they traversed through the building.

“Onyx,” yelled Malcolm from below, “There doesn’t seem to be anybody here. Make your way towards the end and we’ll meet you there.”

“Ah, that would be my decision, Malcolm,” yelled Clara as she approached the opening, staring out.

“You aren’t on point, ma’am, and for good reason!” yelled Malcolm, then he chuckled and continued on his way.

“I’ll tell you, that man…” mumbled Clara, and then she looked at Ruben and pointed down the hallway, a signal for him to continue.

As Ruben continued, he looked into the rooms. They were offices, nice hardwood desks and office chairs stood or laid around the dusty rooms, as office supplies and computer equipment littered the floor. Light could be clearly seen through the dust in the air; and holes blasted into the sides and walls filtered more air in. Ruben made sure to keep an eye on the streets below every time they past one of the holes. Often he saw LEW Humvee and Tank squads rolling through the streets.

“Ok, now this should open up to… some sort of catwalk…” mumbled Dex.

“Catwalk?” asked Leroy, “What? No stairs? I thought we were almost there?”

“No, we have one more small building, we’ll see them in the lobby of that, we need to cross a catwalk…” mumbled Dex again.

“But, we’ll be exposed!” exclaimed Uri.

“Dex says we go across,” said Clara, “We’ll make it across!”

Before she was done speaking, they had reached the end of the hallway and had to turn right. Ruben only walked a few steps down the next hallway when the EXIT door was reached. Ruben tried the door bar, and couldn’t get it open. He braced himself, and then slammed his body weight against the door, slamming it open. The door swung, revealing a metal catwalk over a street to the next building. The catwalk was heavily rusted, and some areas were loose from time, and one area was actually missing from bullet fire.

Ruben shook his head, and turned to Dex.

“There’s gotta be another way around,” said Ruben.

“Not if we’re making our rendezvous,” answered Dex.

Ruben observed the street below, and continued to show unease on his face.

“You first?” said Leroy, pushing Ruben slightly forward.

Ruben shot Leroy an angry glare, and then prepped himself. He slowly counted down from five, and then he sprinted out onto the catwalk, running down towards the other side. The catwalk groaned and creaked as Ruben made his way across. When he reached the other side, he didn’t bother slowing down. Instead, he jumped and allowed his momentum to slam into the door. He stopped dead, a thud against the door.

Ruben allowed a groan to escape him, grabbing his shoulder in pain.

“Is it stuck?” yelled Leroy.

There was a sound of a slap on body armor and Leroy gasped. Then Clara threw Ruben a small charge.

“Place the red wire in the keyhole, the peel off the back and stick it to the door. Back up, and hit the red button.”

Ruben looked at the odd looking charge, and then did just that. He backed up, and braced himself on the catwalk. There was a short pause, and then the charge exploded. It blasted the door open, knocking it off its hinges. The catwalk gave a loud, strained groan. Ruben watched it carefully, and then looked back at the others. Clara urged him forward, and Ruben rushed carefully ahead. When he entered the other building, he did a quick sweep of the inside. It appeared to be some sort of waiting room, that led into an office, and a hallway next to that.

Ruben turned back to the others, and urged them forward. Uri and Leroy tried to go at the same time, but the catwalk gave another groan and they both pulled back.

“Try to take it easy,” said Ruben, “One at a time, Uri.”

Uri began heading over, slinging his rifle so he could grip tightly onto the handrails. As he began across, the catwalk creaked and groaned with every step. Uri allowed an uneasy look to creep across his face, and he tried to quicken his step.

It was the one misstep Uri took that did it. The catwalk gave a final groan before the supports on both sides gave out, and the connectors along the way disconnected, sending the catwalk downward a couple feet before pausing and other bolts and supports began to break. Uri leapt forward, stretching out his arms the best he could.

The catwalk fell, about two or so stories down, and smashed on the road below. Uri was left grasping onto the hands of Ruben, hanging out of the doorway.

“Uri!” gasped Clara.

“I got you,” said Ruben, as he tried to haul him up.

“Doncha let me down, Ruby!” yelled Uri.

“Crap, Lou!” yelled Leroy, which caused Ruben’s head to snap upward and watch the road below.

Sure enough, rounding the corner were four LEW armored Humvees. Without stopping, they cruised down the street. The hatches on top were closed, and no gunners could be seen, which was good for Uri. Uri stopped squirming, and was deathly still, and Ruben stopped trying to hoist him up. The Humvees slammed into the catwalk, effortlessly, and knocked it out of the way, continuing on like nothing. They rounded the corner without slowing, and disappeared behind the next building.

Everyone was silent and still for a few seconds after that, and then Ruben hoisted Uri up into the doorway, getting him inside the building.

“You are one lucky bug!” yelled Leroy from across the street.

“Thanks, Ruben, that was closer then I wannit to ever be again,” said Uri.

“Just cover me,” said Ruben, and he took out a grappling hook with a strange end, and stuck that strange end into the barrel of his gun.

Ruben removed his Battle Rifle clip, and left one bullet in the chamber, then aimed at Clara, who had slung her sniper rifle across her back, readying her arms. Ruben fired, propelling the grappling hook over the street and to those waiting at the other side. Clara fastened it on their side, and then Ruben fastened a similar anchor on his side.

One by one, the rest of the group clipped themselves onto the line which allowed them to cross the street. They each grasped the line and pulled themselves across, only Leroy making a fuss about it. When they made it to the other side, Ruben cut the line and saved the anchor.

“Ok,” said Clara, “We should head through this building and meet up with Malcolm on the other side.”

“According to this reading, Malcolm might have taken the underground passage that connects the two buildings, which would have us meeting here at the same time,” said Dex.

“And if they didn’t?” asked Clara.

“Well, I’d assume he’d wait for us in the lobby before crossing the street,” answered Dex.

Overall, the chapter was pretty good. Sorry that I don't have time to write a more full review, but I don't have internet for the time being.

The action seems to be picking up, so I'll have to find time to go online sometime in the near future to read the next chapter after it's posted. I like how LEW and Hand Of God are having the peace talks, even though I can't really remember why the two were ever fighting and just that they were fighting. LEW's appearance here seemed to build up a nervous feeling despite the approaching peace, but that added to the drama.

Sorry again for rushing, and good luck with getting Warswick published.

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